


Blackwood Creek

by blackat_t7t



Category: Original Work, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bi-Curiosity, Case Fic, Coming of Age, Family Drama, Ghosts, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Major Original Character(s), OC Bigbang 2011, Original Character-centric, Plotty, Road Trips, Self-Acceptance, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackat_t7t/pseuds/blackat_t7t
Summary: Jake spends the school year living a boring civilian life with his mother, but in the summer he goes to Blackwood Creek, a sort of summer camp for hunters' children where they learn the tricks of the trade. This year, there's a new camper at Blackwood Creek: a boy named Logan who has assisted his father on many hunts but is being left behind on a truly dangerous one. Jake, who has never actually hunted before, idolizes Logan, but Logan sees Jake as a naive child. Then Logan's father stops answering his calls, and Logan attempts to run away from Blackwood Creek to find him. Jake, seeing an opportunity to prove his hunting ability to Logan and to himself, forces Logan to let him go along. Can these two half-trained boys survive their first unaided hunt?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on LiveJournal in 2011  
> written for 2011 oc_bigbang  
> Disclaimer- I did not come up with this world, but the idea of a hunters’ summer camp is mine. I did not create the Winchesters or Elkins, but all the rest of the characters mentioned in here are mine.  
> Beta- skylar_matthews

  

Fanmix by [](https://dragonsinger.livejournal.com/profile) **[dragonsinger](https://dragonsinger.livejournal.com/). **Unfortunately not online anymore, but you can look up the songs. 

 

 Jacob Wright shifted anxiously in his bus seat as he saw a familiar sign fly past his window. He was maybe twenty minutes from his destination now, and the anticipation was making his heart pound and his hands fidget. He leaned against the window, trying to see as much of the road ahead as possible although he knew that for the moment he would see nothing but the beautiful landscape of tall pines, blue sky, and open road.  
   
A grin played on Jake’s face as he looked out. He could see it now in his mind, the bus stop just outside the little town of Blackwood Grove, Michigan; the well-known streets he would walk along within the town; the long road he would follow outside city limits, with forest and farmland on either side as far as the eye could see, until he came to the repurposed farmhouse distant enough from the others to be almost isolated: Blackwood Creek Hunters’ Camp.  
   
Blackwood Creek, so named for the little river that ran through the property, was a summer camp of sorts. It wasn’t, Jake thought with a little smile, the sort of place the average family would send their children to experience nature. Blackwood Creek was a private camp, known only to a select few and advertised by word of mouth. It was meant to take children off their parents’ hands for a month and train them up in the family business: hunting the monsters that most of the world didn’t know existed.  
   
Jake, however, was different from most of the campers who had stayed at Blackwood Creek over the years. Jake didn’t get left there while his parent or parents went on a hunt; he didn’t spend the rest of the year traveling with a hunter parent as they pursued supernatural beings. No, instead Jake spent the school year with his English teacher mother in Indianapolis, his next math test and the upcoming soccer game his biggest worries. Apart from July and August, Jake’s life was effectively that of a civilian. Except that he knew what was hidden in the darkness outside the safety of his little house.  
   
Jake’s parents had split up when he was young, because his father, a hunter, had not wanted to endanger his mother, a civilian. Malcolm Wright had hoped that his knowledge would protect his wife, but after a shapeshifter he’d been hunting took on his form and almost killed her and two-year-old Jake, he had left his family and gone back to his former life as an itinerant hunter. When Jake was eight, his father had returned with news of Blackwood Creek Hunters’ Camp. He’d wanted his son to go, so that Jake would be able to protect himself if he needed to, and Jake’s mother had agreed. Since then, Jake’s year was split between his mother’s average civilian life during the school year and his father’s hunter life in the summer. For four weeks in July he trained at Blackwood Creek and in August his father took a break from hunting and went camping with Jake, the only time of the year that they saw each other.  
   
Jake loved the summer months. He looked forward to them all year round, with a much greater intensity and longing than any of the civilian kids he went to school with. He hated the mundane, boring life he led during the school year and dreamed of spending the entire year traveling with his father, hunting down monsters that preyed on innocent people. Jake was almost eighteen and he was looking forward to the day when he would no longer be bound by his parents’ arrangement. Although he’d gone through the motions of applying to college and declaring a school, Jake was secretly planning –hoping- to buy a used car, pack up his guns and other gear he’d learned to use at Blackwood Creek, and travel the country in search of a hunt. He was planning to talk to his father about it when they met in August.  
   
Jake hoped that his father would understand that he was ready. More than ready. He had been trained, had attended Blackwood Creek for nine years already, but Jake had never been on a real hunt. He had assisted in finding peculiar deaths or patterns in obituaries from papers printed throughout the nation. He had salted and burned the bodies of ghosts the camp coordinators had tracked down, while an adult looked on. He had even exorcised a demon from a person one of the camp directors had brought back from a nearby town, with someone looking over his shoulder the entire time. But Jake had never done anything outside of strict adult supervision. He had never done anything on his own. And he wanted a chance to prove himself.  
   
Jake wanted to live the exciting, dangerous life of a hunter. He longed for the rush that came with a pattern in news articles finally clicking into place, the pulse-pounding anticipation of preparing to go after the thing, the near-death experience of fighting against something with inhuman strength, the thrill of finally killing a monster, the satisfaction of knowing without a doubt that he had saved lives. But most of all Jake wanted the pride and sense of accomplishment that came from doing this by himself, without someone standing by to catch him if he slipped up. He couldn’t wait until the end of his tenth and final year of camp when he could talk to his father about his decision to abandon college and a civilian life and become a hunter. Jake hoped that he might be able to convince his father to skip their usual camping trip and take Jake with him on his next hunt.  
   
But, Jake thought as he shifted again in his seat, he didn’t want his last year of camp to be over too quickly. Jake loved Blackwood Creek, and it made him somewhat sad to know he would never be able to attend again. It had been the backdrop for so many good memories. Truly, if Jake were honest with himself, almost all of his good memories centered on Blackwood Creek.  
   
For all Jake complained about being old enough to hunt on his own, he wasn’t the only person at Blackwood Creek who had never gone hunting. In fact, the four other campers who had been there the last year had also never been on a hunt. Even Rae Stevens, who was only a few months younger than Jake and traveled year-round with her hunter parents, had never actually assisted her parents in a hunt. That made Jake, the only camper in their last year who had attended since the minimum age requirement, eight years, the eldest and most experienced of the campers.  
   
Jake had to admit, it wasn’t as though he was treated like a child at the camp. The younger campers looked him up to him, Rae notwithstanding, and went to him with all of their problems and questions. The owner of the camp, Vince Barrett, and the woman who helped him run it, Kaylo Mewes, gave Jake more freedom than any of the other campers, including Rae. He alone had access to the keys of the cars and the silo, where the weapons were stored. He alone was trusted to run errands into town, or to instruct the younger campers on shooting or gun maintenance. He had even been allowed to assist Kaylo in supervising, when Megan Ross attempted her first salt and burn.  
   
During the school year, Jake was an average kid. He had little responsibility, little authority, and little excitement. During the summer, however, his life was completely different. He was trained and even got practice in fighting supernatural beings that his classmates thought only existed in legends and horror movies. He was treated like a camp coordinator in his own right, both by Barrett and Kaylo, and by the other campers. He was a different person during the summer from the one his friends at school knew. And that was the person he wanted to be for the rest of his life.  
   
Jake was shaken from his thoughts when the bus pulled to a stop before a dusty sign proclaiming their arrival at the turnoff point for Blackwood Grove, MI, population 17,000. Almost shaking with excitement, Jake picked up his duffle bag from the seat next to him and stepped off of the bus. As it pulled away behind him he inhaled deeply the clean, fresh country air, a grin spreading across his face. He took off through the town at a trot, following roads that had long since been burned into his memory. Just two miles to cover and he would be at Blackwood Creek, a place that was more home to him than the house he lived in ten months out of the year. Two more miles and he’d be home.


	2. Chapter 2

Jake, who had slowed to a walk as the last two miles of his journey began to wear on him, put on a last burst of speed as he approached the farm he knew so well. He sprang past the farmhouse itself, knowing that most of the people would be in the barn. As he passed through the faded red doors his heart leapt at the familiar sounds and smells. His duffle bag dropped from his shoulder and for a moment Jake simply stood by, watching and listening to the commotion of early camp activity.  
   
The barn had been cleared of anything that might have once been used to house cows. The bare cement floor now held a bathroom of two toilet stalls and two shower stalls in one corner, a small kitchenette in another, a long dining table, a wall-mounted wired phone, several recliners and beanbag chairs, and a pool table. The upper floor, which at one point had held hay for the cows, now contained ten small beds with low dressers at their sides, each encircled with a privacy curtain. At the moment both floors were alive with movement and noise as campers attempted to haul their bags up the ladder to the loft, examined the contents of the refrigerator, or simply played a game of pool while they reacquainted themselves with their surroundings and their fellow campers.  
   
“Jake!” a female voice called, and before he could respond Jake found himself wrapped up in a bear hug from Rae Stevens, another camper.  
   
“Rae!” he greeted in return, hugging her back. “It’s great to see you again! How you been?”  
   
“Ah!” Rae laughed as she released him. “Same old, same old. Getting dragged cross-country by mom’n’dad. Transferring to a record of eleven different schools to finish off my senior year with the highest GPA at the last one, though they wouldn’t recognize me for it since I’d only been there a month. Can hardly believe I actually got into college. Can’t wait to go. Still haven’t gotten to go on a hunt. You?”  
   
“Stuck in Indianapolis. Fucking boring. Did win state championship in soccer, though. Almost failed my art class, God knows how. Forced to apply to college; don’t wanna go. Still haven’t gotten to go on a hunt. Hoping my dad takes me after camp.”  
   
“Girlfriend?” Rea asked as she threw an arm around his shoulders and dragged him over to the pool table to watch the game that was going on between Jeremy Stern, a boy a few years younger than Jake and Rae, and Megan Ross, who had just turned eleven. Megan was taking aim at the eight ball, and the table was covered in solids.  
   
“Nah,” Jake answered Rae’s question, and gave her a sidelong look. “You?”  
   
“For a while,” she replied, a smirk spreading across her lips. “But she broke up with me a few days before my family left.”  
   
“Boyfriend?”  
   
“Oh, a few,” Rae said dismissively. “Nothing more than a couple weeks. You know how it is. Or, well, maybe you don’t.”  
   
“Yeah, yeah, rub it in.” Jake pulled away from Rae as Megan shot the eight ball into the corner pocket. Rae nodded to him in dismissal as she took up the pool cue from Jeremy, and Jake nodded in return. He scooped up his duffle bag from where he’d dropped it at the doorway and set about helping Will Hess, the youngest camper at only nine, get his own bag up the ladder.  
   
The five of them, Jake, Rae, Jeremy, Megan, and Will, had been together the previous year and had gotten to know each other fairly well. Jake knew that both Rae and Jeremy traveled full time with at least one hunter parent, though neither of them had ever been allowed to hunt with them. Both also aspired to abandon the hunter’s life, something Jake did not understand. Megan’s father was a retired hunter who owned a bar and her much older sister was a hunter, but Megan’s passion was fixing up old cars and it was suspected that she’d end up taking over her father’s business. Will, the youngest, had the same peculiar arrangement as Jake –a normal life during the school year, and a hunter’s life in the summer- and he, too, wanted nothing more than to be a hunter.  
   
On the second story, Jake dropped Will’s bag on the bed the younger boy indicated and then placed his own on his chosen bed. Looking around, Jake saw that another bed already had a bag resting on it, although he was sure that Rae, Jeremy, and Megan had all left theirs downstairs. Jake frowned as he stared at the unfamiliar bag. Had there been a sixth camper on the ground floor? If there had, the person had escaped his notice.  
   
Jake went to the ladder and looked down, but he could only see the three people who had been there when he left as well as Vince Barrett, the owner of the camp. Barrett noticed Jake looking through the hole in the ceiling and motioned for him to come down. Jake did.  
   
“Kaylo will bring the food out in about an hour,” Barrett told Jake. “And as soon as the sun sets, you can move the kids over to the fire pit and start up the bonfire, and she’ll bring out the chocolate and marshmallows. After it’s gotten dark we’ll start with the fireworks, and when that’s done just herd them all back here and get them to bed. Training starts bright and early tomorrow.”  
   
“Yes, sir!” Jake said excitedly. The camp always began on the fourth of July with a cookout, bonfire, and fireworks. After that, it was hard training and hard play until they all left for home on the first of August.  
   
Jake started to go over to the other campers to tell them of the event schedule, but paused when something came back to his mind. His sharp eyes caught three duffle bags strewn about the ground floor, making a total of six with the three upstairs. Jake turned back to Barrett. “Mr. Barrett, how many campers are there this year?”  
   
“Oh, six,” Barrett answered, as though it had slipped his mind. “Yes, a sixth boy was dropped off unexpectedly this morning, a kid named Logan Taylor. He’s about your and Rae’s age. I wonder where he’s gotten to,” Barrett murmured thoughtfully as he looked around. “Ah, well. I wouldn’t worry about him. The boy’s been hunting with his father since he hit thirteen; I’m sure he can handle himself.”  
   
Barrett turned and left, oblivious to Jake’s slack-jawed stare that followed him from the barn. Jake wished the man had stayed so he could ask more. He just had to meet this Logan guy.  
   
   
   
   
By the time night had fallen, Jake was so preoccupied with food and fire-starting and keeping the youngest campers from running off that he’d all but forgotten about that mysterious sixth camper. He laughed along with the others at a joke Megan had made, fighting the marshmallow sticking to his teeth. The five of them sat around a huge bonfire making s’mores and exchanging stories from the school year. Firelight danced on their laughing faces as the stars began to come out overhead and they waited for the fireworks to start.  
   
The spray of colored sparks was the first thing to appear, followed seconds later by the thunder-like report, and Jake turned to look at the sky as the first firework fizzled out. He watched the next few, an insuppressible grin on his face as the vibrant sparks blossomed against the inky backdrop and then faded away. After a few minutes Jake glanced at Rae sitting beside him, enjoying the childlike awe on her face, and something caught his eye.  
   
Another figure was standing outside of the circle, a little ways off. The flashes of light threw into contrast sharp masculine features set in a surprisingly neutral expression. Jake watched as the stranger’s face was bathed in colored light and shadow, feeling somewhat self-conscious for his immature wonder of the fireworks when this man, who looked no older than Jake himself but whose poise demanded the title of man, was so unfazed by them. The man turned his head, and Jake went still as their eyes met. He suddenly felt very exposed; it reminded him of a dream he’d once had of going to school naked and being relieved when nobody noticed, only to have the vice principal show up and clearly see what no one else had.  
   
Then the man turned away, his expression as impassive as before. Jake continued to watch him for a moment before slowly turning back to the fireworks. That had to be the elusive Logan, he was sure.  
   
   
   
   
Later that night, when the fireworks ended and Jake ushered the younger campers off to bed, he was oddly not surprised that the man who had been standing by them had disappeared. He was somewhat surprised, however, when there was no one waiting for them in the loft. As tired “goodnight”s fluttered around the room and bedside lamps were switched off, Jake waited for the telltale creak of the ladder as someone climbed it, hoping to see this Logan in a regular light, and perhaps talk with him before they both fell asleep. Try as he might, though, Jake found himself nodding off before Logan returned. Just as he was slipping into sleep he thought he heard the ladder creaking, but then he was lost to dreams.  
   
   
   
   
When Jake woke at the crack of dawn the next morning, the other four campers were still in their beds, snoring softly. The sixth bed, however, was neatly made, and its occupant was nowhere in sight. With a groan Jake levered himself from bed and stretched his arms above his head. A few beds down, Rae rolled over, moaning softly, and Jake watched for a moment to see if she would wake up. When she settled back in bed and made no other signs of moving, he padded across the wooden floor to the ladder and went down to the ground floor.  
   
It wasn’t until Jake was at the bottom of the ladder that he noticed someone was sitting at the long table at one end of the room. One hand still resting on the ladder, Jake watched the other person as they ate. It was the man from last night, though without the sharp shadows of the previous night his features appeared boyish enough that he no longer commanded the title. Jake could see now that he had close-cropped hair that curled slightly in the places where it had grown out, mostly a light brown but sun-bleached to near blonde at the top of his head. He wore blue jeans and a brown T-shirt, though Jake couldn’t make out the faded image on the front. The teen paused in eating and looked up, his eyes locking with Jake’s, and Jake saw that they were a green-brown color. Slowly the other teen bowed his head and went back to his food, and Jake let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  
   
Jake went over to the table and stood near the other boy, his hands coming to rest on the back of a chair. “I’m Jake,” he introduced himself awkwardly. “And I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”  
   
“Logan,” the other boy greeted in return as he stood up from the table, his plate empty. “Yeah, this is my first time here.”  
   
“I heard,” Jake began, but paused when Logan turned away from him and started carrying his plate towards the kitchen. Jake followed. “I heard you’ve gone hunting with your dad.”  
   
Logan nodded as he dropped the plate into the sink and turned the water on. “Since my thirteenth birthday.” His lips quirked in a sort of smile, but Jake knew instinctively that there was nothing happy in it. “Y’know, some kids get a new dirt bike or game system or something. I got to help my dad get rid of a poltergeist.”  
   
“That’s so cool,” Jake said in awe. Logan just shrugged and put the cleaned and dried dishes away. He started towards the door and Jake followed. “You’ve been on a lot of hunts?”  
   
“I guess I have,” Logan murmured as he stepped out into the early morning sun.  
   
“So what’re you doing here?” Jake asked, overcome with curiosity for this boy. He wanted to know all about this young man his own age who had been hunting since he was thirteen. “I mean, don’t you already know everything they teach here?”  
   
“Possibly.” Logan shrugged. “Hunters are always finding new and better ways to kill things.”  
   
“So you’re here to learn new things?”  
   
Logan stopped walking and stared across the field before them, his face blank. Jake followed his gaze but saw nothing. He looked back to Logan expectantly. Now that the other boy was standing, Jake saw that Logan had maybe an inch and ten pounds on him, and his body was all lean muscle. Jake’s eyes caught on a flash of metal, and they widened in surprise when he saw that it was a revolver tucked into the other boy’s jeans pocket.  
   
“I’m here,” Logan said, his voice surprising Jake from his thoughts. “That’s all you need to know.” With that he turned and walked away, leaving Jake staring after him. A bell rang back within the barn and Jake shook himself from his thoughts and hurried inside to get his breakfast from Kaylo before the other campers ate it all.  
   
   
   
   
Jake spent the rest of the day watching Logan as he went through the activities of the camp. He was an amazing shot, not only with the revolver he carried but also with a shotgun, a rifle, and even a crossbow. He could deconstruct and clean a gun in record time, but his every movement was efficient, and upon inspection the gun proved to be completely spotless. He could pack salt cartridges and pick locks faster than anyone Jake had seen, and draw Devil’s Traps from memory. Jake was in awe of him.  
   
That evening when they were sitting around the bonfire once more, Logan again apart from the others, Jake went over to the other teen. Logan didn’t look up when he approached, nor did her say anything when Jake sat next to him.  
   
“You’re really amazing,” Jake said softly. “I’ve never seen anyone as good as you.”  
   
Logan shrugged. “When your life is always in danger, your skills get sharper faster.”  
   
“I guess so. I’ve been training here for years, but I’m not nearly as good.” Jake looked over at him almost shyly. “What’s it like?” he asked, with barely contained eagerness. “Hunting? What does it feel like when you’re actually fighting against something like that? When you kill it?”  
   
“You’ve never been?”  
   
“No.” Jake shook his head. “I’ve always wanted to, though. I’m hoping my dad will take me after camp ends.” Jake’s voice became more and more excited as he spoke of his plans. “We’ll spend all of August driving around finding things to kill, saving people. In September I’m gonna buy a car and start hunting on my own, just like my dad. I’m not gonna go back to my mom’s house and go to college.” Jake stopped talking and sighed heavily. When he spoke again his words came more slowly. “All my life I’ve spent the school year with my mom; she’s a teacher, a civilian. I lived just like a normal kid most of the year. It was so incredibly boring, and all I wanted was to go with my dad on his hunting trips. But,” Jake laughed softly and turned his attention back to Logan, “I guess you don’t know what it feels like, being stuck in a civilian life.”  
   
Logan stared into the fire, a serious expression on his face. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t.”  
   
“So tell me,” Jake pressed. “What’s it like to travel around and hunt things? You’re so lucky! I can’t wait until I can do that!”  
   
Logan snorted derisively and Jake pulled back from him in surprise. For the first time, Logan turned to look directly at Jake. “You’re going to be a hunter?” he asked, his voice dripping with contempt. “You? You’re just some stupid kid playing a make-believe game. You don’t know what it’s like to really hunt; you don’t know anything. You’re just a stupid, naïve, inexperienced brat with no idea what the real world is like. Grow up.” With that he stood up from the bench and walked away, not looking back.  
   
Jake stared off after him, stunned. Slowly his shock turned to anger and he got up from the bench and paced a few steps from the fire pit, fuming. Who was this guy to insult him? So maybe he was almost eighteen and had never been on a hunt, while Logan had been hunting since thirteen. That didn’t give the guy the right to act so superior! That didn’t make Jake stupid or naïve! That didn’t make him a kid playing at being a hunter! He was a serious hunter, going through training in order to be prepared for what was out there. He could handle himself! He could! All he needed was an opportunity to prove it.


	3. Chapter 3

As the days went by, Jake continued to observe Logan as he went about his camp activities, though he no longer attempted to approach or converse with the other teen. He watched Logan’s every move -the way his hands held a rifle, each swipe of the cloth as he cleaned his guns- in order to learn from him. Logan seemed to know that he was being watched, but he never said anything about it. Occasionally Logan would look up in Jake’s direction and their eyes would meet. Each time it happened Jake got the feeling he was being mocked by the more experienced hunter. That angered him, and made him even more determined to better his skills.  
   
It wasn’t only Jake that Logan seemed to avoid. He never, that Jake could see, interacted with the other campers or even the counselors when he could avoid it. He rose early, made his own meals and ate them alone, and came to bed after everyone else had gone to sleep. He didn’t even seem to keep to a set schedule of activities. More than once Jake considered complaining about it to Barrett or Kaylo, only to wonder if they didn’t already know and approve because there was simply nothing for Logan to learn here.  
   
One thing Jake had noticed, and he was fairly certain Logan knew he’d noticed, was that while everyone else was preoccupied with eating dinner Logan would make a call on the phone mounted on one wall of the barn. The calls were usually very short; Jake could imagine that only a few words might be exchanged during that time. The fourth night of camp, Logan looked up as he took the phone from his ear, and his eyes caught on Jake’s. Jake’s first instinct was to look away, but he didn’t; he was too proud to let Logan intimidate him like that. Instead he gazed back into the hazel eyes, trying to read something in them. Logan’s expression, he thought, dared him to ask about the calls.  
   
Suddenly Rae snapped her fingers in front of Jake’s face, bringing his attention back to the conversation going around the table. “Probably,” he said when she repeated her question as to whether or not they might be able to drive to the nearby lake the next day and go swimming. While Rae went back to making plans with Jeremy to get a couple floats in town to bring to the lake, Jake turned back to look at Logan but found that the other teen was nowhere in sight. He slowly turned back to the table and resumed eating, wondering who it was that Logan had called.  
   
Later that night after dinner and another bonfire, when Jake was writing in his journal as the other campers prepared for bed, the ladder creaked as someone stepped onto it and Jake looked over to see Logan climbing through the hole in the floor. Jake was surprised to see him there; over the past few days of camp Logan had always risen before everyone else and come up after they were asleep. This was the first time Jake had ever actually seen the other boy in the loft.  
   
Logan stood for a moment next to the top of the ladder, then started towards his bed. His eyes caught Jake’s as he walked slowly, deliberately past Jake’s bed to his own. Jake knew that this was his chance to confront Logan, to ask him about the calls. But he couldn’t. As the other boy crossed before his bed Jake wanted to call out to him, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he couldn’t form the words. He watched the other teen silently as he went to his bed and pulled the privacy curtain around it with one sharp movement.  
   
While lights winked out around the room, Jake sat on his bed, considering whether or not he should, or even could, go over and talk to Logan, and what he might say. Finally while Jake was still deliberating, Logan’s bedside lamp clicked off, leaving Jake’s own lamp as the only light in the loft. Jake sighed and lay down on his bed, setting his journal on the nightstand and clicking off the lamp so that the room was bathed in darkness. He wondered if Logan was lying in bed thinking that Jake had been too intimidated by him to ask. He couldn’t have blamed the other teen if he was; Jake had acted like a coward.  
   
   
   
   
The next day, the fourth full day of camp, Jake asked Barrett over breakfast if he could take the other campers to the lake a few miles from Blackwood Grove and spend the day there. It was approved. After breakfast Jake and Megan packed a cooler with sodas, juice drinks, chips, and sandwiches, preparing for a day out on the lake. Jake was loading it and other items needed for a day spent in the water into the back of Barrett’s pickup truck, the younger campers all crowded around, when Rae asked him to wait for a moment.  
   
To Jake’s utter shock, Rae walked over to Logan where he was sitting with an old book of Catholic exorcism rituals. Jake could see them through the open door of the barn but couldn’t hear their conversation, though he could only imagine that Rae must be inviting Logan to go along with them. Jake snorted and leaned against the side of the truck to watch the fallout, thinking to himself that Logan would only reject the offer and maybe even say something nasty to Rae for daring to speak to him.  
   
Thus Jake was even more shocked when Logan stood, tucked the book under his arm, and went over to the ladder leading upstairs. He gaped at Rae as she sauntered back over, a satisfied smile on her face. “What did you  _say_ to him?”  
   
“Oh, come on, Jake,” Rae laughed, giving him a playful shove. “He’s not a bad guy; just a bit shy of other people. And you would be too, if you’d spent your whole life traveling from town to town, never having one friend for more than a couple weeks. Just give him a chance; he’s really very sweet.”  
   
“Sweet, huh?” Jake asked dryly as he watched Logan descend the ladder, now dressed in swim trunks and a T-shirt. “That’s not exactly the first word I’d have thought of.”  
   
Rae didn’t answer but instead gave Jake another shove, less playful this time, and went over to walk beside Logan. Jake rolled his eyes and pushed off the side of the truck. He went around to the driver’s side and climbed in, then watched through the rearview mirror as Will, Megan, Jeremy, Rae, and Logan all climbed into the back of the truck and Rae pulled the lift gate shut. He couldn’t help but feel a little hurt: usually Rae would sit up in the front with him and they would talk and laugh together with the window of the cab open so they could keep an eye on the younger campers in the back. Jake shook his head, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of betrayal at Rae choosing Logan over him. He started up the truck and concentrated on driving.  
   
   
   
   
They stopped at a store in Beaver Lake, a tiny town a few miles from Blackwood Grove and just next to the lake it was named after, and Jake kept track of Megan and Will while the campers ran through the store looking for water toys. Two blow-up rings, a beach ball, two noodle floats, three crayfish nets, and a blow-up raft later, Jake had paid for the water toys with money from Barrett and the younger campers were crowded in the back of the truck trying to blow up all their toys at once. By the time they reached the lake on the edge of the town, the beach ball had already blown away.  
   
Jake parked the truck on the side of the road by an empty lot that had been converted into a small park and public lake access point. Although it was a nice day, warm but not too warm with only a few wisps of cloud scudding across the sky, there was no one else at the park and the six of them had it to themselves.  
   
While Will and Megan striped off the clothes they wore over their suits and raced to the rocky shoreline, Jake set the cooler and some towels he’d brought on a picnic table. He collected Megan and Will’s discarded clothes and set them next to the towels. Then he looked out at the other campers. Will and Megan had gotten the crayfish nets and were standing stock still in the water, trying to spot one of the miniature lobsters. Jake smiled knowingly and retrieved a five-gallon bucket from the back of the truck to hold whatever the caught. Jeremy had taken a ring and was splashing around, obscuring the younger kids’ view and upsetting them. Rae and Logan were sitting on a bench at the edge of the water. He was blowing up the raft Rae had brought.  
   
Jake watched the two of them as he removed his shirt and prepared to go in the water himself. Rae had taken off her shirt and shorts and was sitting in only a bikini. She leaned close to Logan and spoke to him, though Jake couldn’t hear what she said. Logan was still wearing his shirt. As Jake watched he finished blowing up the raft, plugged it, and handed it to Rae with a little smile. It was the first time Jake had ever seen Logan smile. Rae took the raft and stood, beckoning Logan to go with her, but he shook his head. Rae grabbed his wrist and tugged, pleading with a grin on her face, but Logan still refused. Finally Rae shrugged and turned towards the water. As she stepped in, she looked back at Jake and called out to him. He waved and started over. For some reason, he couldn’t help but feel glad that Logan wasn’t swimming with Rae.  
   
The five of them splashed around for a long time, while Logan sat on the bench and watched. Megan, Will, and even Jeremy for a little while, chased and caught crayfish and dumped them in the bucket with a couple rocks for them to hide under. Rae, Jake, and Jeremy raced one another to the opposite end of the lake, but half way across a large fish brushed past Jeremy and he insisted on turning back. They took turns casting off the little dock with the one fishing pole Jake had brought. Will and Jake both caught small fish and let them go, but Megan caught a large one and insisted on putting it in the bucket with her crayfish to take home and clean for dinner.  
   
When the sun was directly overhead, five sopping kids climbed from the lake and gathered around the table to eat the sandwiches Jake had made. While Will, Megan, Jeremy, and Jake all sat around the picnic table, Rae took another sandwich over to Logan and sat next to him. Jake watched as they ate together, Rae chattering and Logan simply nodding as she spoke. It annoyed him to see how close they acted, though he wasn’t sure if it was because Rae seemed to like Logan more than Jake, who had been her closest friend for five years now, or because Logan seemed so friendly with Rae when he’d alternately ignored and insulted Jake. He decided it was a combination of both, and that only made him dislike Logan more.  
   
When they were done eating everyone at the picnic table rushed back into the water, the risk of stomachaches ignored. Jake watched from a ring in the lake as Rae once again tried to convince Logan to get in the water, and he once again refused. Rae left him on the bench and waded into the water to fight with Jeremy over the raft he had taken while she dawdled. Jake watched them fighting for a moment, then noticed movement on the bench from the corner of his eye.  
   
Jake looked back at Logan as the other teen stood up and began tugging his shirt over his head. His eyes widened as Logan’s shirt rose to reveal scars spattered over the tan skin of his chest. Three over his ribs were flat and white, while one over his shoulder was raised and red. He seemed almost self-conscious of the scars, and held his shirt in front of his chest as though to hide them.  
   
‘He must have gotten them hunting,’ Jake thought in awe. He wondered what sort of monsters Logan had hunted and killed to get those kinds of wounds. Although he knew it must have meant a great deal of pain, he couldn’t help but be jealous of the other boy for having such badges of honor.  
   
As Jake watched, Logan set the shirt aside and waded into the lake. It wasn’t until Logan was up to his neck in the water, scars hidden from view, that Rae noticed him and paddled over. She smiled at him from her reclaimed raft, and Logan put his arms on the edge and rested his chin on them, treading water as he looked up at her. Jake observed the two of them and tried not to feel too jealous.  
   
   
   
   
It was starting to get dark when the six of them, their stomachs growling, finally dragged themselves from the water. Their fingers and toes were pruned and their skin was half-burnt, even though Jake had reminded everyone to put sun lotion on again at lunch. Logan was the last to leave the water, after all the others had gotten out and were starting to load things back into the truck. Jake, however, noticed Logan’s hesitation, and suspected that it was intentional to keep anyone from seeing his scars.  
   
Jake watched as Logan slipped out of the water and pulled his shirt onto his wet body. He hadn’t brought any clothes to change into and was stuck in his wet bathing suit. Jake nudged Rae and passed her a spare towel. She gave him a curious look, and he nodded to Logan. She raised an eyebrow at Jake, silently questioning why he was being kind to Logan and why he wouldn’t take the towel himself. Jake turned away without answering and climbed into the front seat of the truck. He watched through the mirror as Rae handed Logan the towel, and he thanked her and wrapped it around his waist before sitting down. Jake waited until everything and everyone was in the truck bed and the lift gate was closed before putting the key in the ignition.  
   
Rae knocked on the window of the truck cab as they started down the road, and Jake stopped at a corner and opened it. “It’s late,” Rae said, for it was: the sun set around nine-thirty during Michigan summers. “Let’s stop in town and eat.”  
   
Jake agreed and pulled into the first restaurant he saw. They ordered a large pizza and played pool, making a night of it. Pool, they had all been taught, was one of the best ways for traveling hunters to make money. Rae, who lived with her hunter parents and had no allowance save what she could hustle in pool, was the best at the game, though Megan, who spent a great deal of time in the bar her father owned, was almost as good, and Jake a close third after her. Logan didn’t play but sat at the table watching them and checking the clock on the wall.  
   
It was nearly midnight when they finally returned to camp, exhausted from a full day of play. Barrett was there waiting up for them and counted them all twice to make sure everyone had come home. Jake gave him the money he hadn’t spent on toys or food and Barrett sent them off to bed. The younger children went straight up, but Rae and Jake stayed to use the showers, wanting to rinse off the sunscreen and lake water.  
   
Jake stripped and stepped onto the cement floor of the stall. He turned the water on, tensing under the cold spray, and turned the knobs until the temperature became wonderfully warm. He wet his hair, turned the water off, soaped up, and then turned the water back on again. He let it keep running over his back even after the soap was long gone, enjoying the feel of the warm water pounding his scalp and shoulders even after a day of swimming. When he finally turned the water off he could hear Rae’s shower still running, and knew she must also be savoring the warmth of it. He wiped down his body and ruffled his hair, then wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out.  
   
Jake noticed that Logan was still awake, standing by the wall phone. He hung it up, then quickly pulled it back again and dialed. He held it to his ear, listening for a moment, then hung up again. Beside Jake, Rae’s shower stopped running. Logan redialed the phone, listened, and hung up again. Rae stepped out of the shower. She and Jake exchanged a glance as they watched Logan again redialed the phone, listened, and hung up. He glared at the phone with such intensity Jake worried it might melt, and then picked it up to redial again.  
   
“It’s late,” Rae interrupted, making Logan tense and whirl about to face her. “They’re probably asleep, and maybe they’ve turned off their phone. Don’t worry about it. Just try them again in the morning.” Logan seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding slowly. Rae went to his side and patted his shoulder, then shoved him towards the ladder. “Come on,” she said, ignoring his glare at the shoving. “It’s late. Time for bed.”  
   
Logan went to the ladder and climbed up almost hesitantly. Jake and Rae met at the bottom and argued over who would go up last, neither wanting to go ahead of the other in nothing but a towel. Finally Jake went, and Rae followed after he’d reached the top. Jake looked around and saw that all the lights were out and the curtains drawn, including Logan’s. He went to his own bed and pulled the privacy curtain, then threw the towel over it, and put on a pair of boxers. He scribbled a few sentences in his journal before crawling under the covers. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
   
   
   
   
The next day when Jake went down for breakfast, Logan was once again dialing the phone. It seemed he still couldn’t get in contact with the person he was trying to reach, and it was obvious that he was starting to get worried. Jake watched from the corner of his eye as Logan dialed the number seven times before he seemed to give up.  
   
Jake wasn’t the only one to notice Logan’s frantic redialing. Rae also saw it, and she went over to Logan and pulled him to the table. She sat down and told him about the exorcism she was going to try on a possessed person Kaylo had dragged back from a neighboring city. She asked him to watch with Barrett while she did it, just in case. Logan agreed.  
   
Jake clenched his fist around his glass as he listened to them. He couldn’t tell if Rae was asking Logan in order to distract him from his worry, or because she genuinely wanted his assistance. He wasn’t sure which of those things bothered him more.  
   
When it came time for the exorcism, both Jake and Logan, as well as Barrett, stood by and observed as Rae spoke the fifty words of Latin. The two boys pointedly did not look at each other for the duration of the ritual. In the end, the exorcism went off without any issues and none of their presences were required.  
   
By evening, though, any effect Rae’s distraction had had on Logan had disappeared, when he attempted his phone call once more and failed yet again to reach the person he was trying to get ahold of. Rae tried again to distract him by pulling him into a game of pool, but Jake saw that he kept glancing back to the phone, obviously still worried.  
   
   
   
   
The next day was the sixth full day of camp, and the third day Logan couldn’t contact the person he kept trying to call. While they ate, he anxiously dialed and redialed the phone. Jake could see Rae watching him, probably thinking of ways to distract him from it. He wondered if Rae knew who it was that Logan was trying to call.  
   
Rae stood and announced that she needed to get something from her room, and they should head to the target range without her. Jake sent the younger campers on ahead and stayed behind himself to help Kaylo clean up the breakfast dishes. When he returned from the farmhouse, Logan was still trying to make his call and Rae was still upstairs.  
   
Logan slammed the phone against the cradle and spun around, his hands clenched into fists. His eyes caught on Jake and he paused, then started to walk over. Jake tensed as he watched Logan approach, wondering if the angry teen might be looking for a fight. Logan stopped in front of him, his hands still fisted at his sides but eyes downcast. He spoke slowly, as though each word was a struggle to force past his lips. “Could I… Could I borrow your cell phone?”  
   
Jake was surprised, and although part of him wanted to deny the request or even mock the other boy, a bigger part wouldn’t let him. He understood that Logan wouldn’t have asked him if he weren’t desperate, and he couldn’t tease him when he was in that state. Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.  
   
Logan dialed a number and held the phone to his ear, biting his lip. He still didn’t look at Jake, but instead focused on some point off to the left of him. The number he called must have gone straight to voicemail, because within seconds he was hanging up and thrusting the phone back at Jake. Jake took it, fumbling a little in his surprise, and looked up to watch Logan stalk off. He glanced at the screen, checking the number Logan had called. He didn’t recognize it.  
   
Rae climbed down the ladder and trotted over while Jake was still staring at the screen of his phone. She asked him where Logan had gone and Jake pointed wordlessly in the direction the other boy had run off. As Rae left in the way he had indicated, Jake pressed the redial button on his phone and held it to his ear.  
   
“You’re reached Luke Taylor,” a voicemail message played into his ear. “I’m probably busy with another job right now, but leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you.” Jake hung up the phone as the start-of-message beep sounded.  
   
   
   
   
That evening as Jake was going into the farmhouse to help bring dinner dishes to the barn, he heard voices from behind a door. Curiosity getting the better of him, he stopped to listen.  
   
“But it’s been three days!” Logan’s voice cried, loud and strained. “He could be hurt! He could be lying in the woods, or an abandoned building, or a motel somewhere,  _dying_!”  
   
“That’s exactly my point!” Barrett’s voice responded, harsher than Jake had ever heard it. “You have no idea where your father might be. Even if he were injured, you wouldn’t know the first place to start looking for him. Listen. Luke Taylor is a great hunter; both Kaylo and I have heard of the things he’s killed. I’m sure there aren’t many creatures out there that he couldn’t handle. He’s probably just too busy to answer his phone.”  
   
Logan’s voice was quiet when he answered, and Jake had to strain his ears to make it out. “He said this was the most dangerous thing he’d ever hunted. That’s why he didn’t bring me with him.”  
   
Barrett sighed heavily. “If it really is so dangerous that your father can’t kill it,” he said slowly, “then you don’t stand much of a chance of helping him, son. Your father told me when he left you here to keep you safe at all costs, even -especially- by keeping you from going after him. You might have some experience as a hunter, but you’ve never hunted by yourself before, and you’re still just a child. I can’t allow you to leave this camp on your own.”  
   
“I’m eighteen!” Logan objected.  
   
“All the same, your father left you in my care. I cannot, will not, allow you to put yourself in danger by following your father and running straight into the hands of a monster that may have hurt or killed a much better hunter than you are. No matter what may or may not have happened to Luke, there is no point in you leaving this camp, son. Just… wait a few more days. I’m certain he’ll get back to you.”  
   
“Fine,” Logan snarled, and Jake heard heavy footsteps coming in his direction He quickly ducked back behind a wall, out of view of the other teen as he stormed out of the farmhouse. Jake listened as Logan’s stomping footfalls faded away and the front door slammed behind him. Then he heard Kaylo’s more delicate footsteps moving from the kitchen, where she’d no doubt heard to whole conversation, into the room where Barrett was.  
   
“What are you going to do,” Kaylo murmured, “if the end of the month comes and Luke is still missing?”  
   
“Luke Taylor is a great hunter,” Barrett said slowly. “But he loves his boy. He wouldn’t have left Logan here if he weren’t going after something he knew could kill them both. And he wouldn’t stop answering Logan’s calls unless he physically couldn’t. If he’s not answering his phone… we have to assume the worst.”  
   
A chill ran down Jake’s spine at the retired hunter’s words. He thought of his own father, off hunting unknown things in unknown places. He could have died any number of times, and Jake probably would never have known until the end of July, if his father didn’t show up at the end of camp to get him. He resolved to call his own father that night, just to make sure that… just to make sure.  
   
“You think he’s dead already?” Kaylo asked. “Why didn’t you say so?”  
   
“No sense in telling the boy that just yet,” Barrett replied. “Let him enjoy the summer while he can. And who knows? I may be wrong. I hope I am.”  
   
“But what  _will_  happen to Logan, if his father is dead?”  
   
Barrett sighed. “The boy is eighteen, Kaylo. Once the camp ends he’ll be on his own, I’m afraid.”  
   
A cold feeling swept through Jake’s body as he processed the words. He swallowed, fighting down a swell of pity for the older teen. Although traveling the country and hunting alone was Jake’s dream, he had never thought of what it might be like without his mother’s home to return to, or without his father to call for advice. It seemed that Logan’s mother wasn’t around; if his father really was dead, then the young man would be all alone.  
   
‘But maybe,’ Jake thought, recalling how Logan had begged to leave camp, ‘if Logan could get to him in time, he could save him.’ Jake resolved at that moment that he would try to help Logan find his dad, in whatever way he could.


	4. Chapter 4

Jake lay awake in bed, listening to the creaking of the old barn and the quick beating of his heart. He couldn’t believe what he was planning to do. Sure, he was almost eighteen, and more than used to rebelling against authority figures and doing things he wasn’t allowed to, but he’d never done that outside of his ten months of civilian life. He respected his father and Barrett, and understood that their every rule had been put in place for his safety. He’d never even considered disobeying them before.  
   
Jake had noticed the look of resolve of Logan’s face when he couldn’t reach his father that evening. He had seen from the corner of his eye the other teen brush Rae off and go upstairs, and had noticed when he went to bed that Logan’s duffle bag, sticking out from under his bed part way, was packed up. He knew that Logan would try to leave camp that night. And he knew that he could help if he went with him.  
   
Whatever Logan would be hunting, a second pair of hands and eyes would help him. He had never, from the sound of it, hunted anything without his father before. Jake had never hunted anything at all, but he knew he was good. He knew it. He would help Logan hunt this thing and save his father. He would prove to Logan that he wasn’t just some kid playing hunter. He was a real hunter, and a good one; just as good as Logan was. He would prove that to Logan. He would prove it to himself.  
   
Jake tensed when he heard to floor creak, and forced himself to lay still. It was past midnight and the barn was dark and still. All the other campers were sleeping soundly and the lights had gone off at the main house a couple hours ago. He heard rustling by Logan’s bed and could imagine that the older boy was carefully pushing back the curtain and pulling his duffle bag from under his bed. Jake lay still as soft footfalls padded past his bed to the ladder. He heard the creak of someone climbing down, and then everything was quiet again. Jake waited for a couple minutes, making certain that Logan was far enough away that he wouldn’t hear him, then pushed the covers back from his body. As silently as he could, he picked up his own packed duffle bag and started towards the ladder.  
   
Jake stopped to pull on his shoes after he reached the floor of the barn, and then followed in the direction he knew Logan must have gone. Near the barn and the farmhouse there was a large shed which had once stored tractors and other farm equipment but now held Barrett’s van, Kaylo’s crossover, and the pickup truck and a small car, both of which were considered camp vehicles. Logan, Jake suspected, wouldn’t want to mess with public buses. The easiest and fastest way to reach his father would be with a car of his own, and the only way to get one was to steal a camp car.  
   
Jake, with his duffle slung over his shoulder by a strap, padded over to the shed. Sure enough the door was cracked open, the chain and lock lying open on the ground. Not wanting to alert Logan to his presence by moving the door, Jake squeezed through the crack into the shed, being careful not to let his bag hit the door. He blinked when he got inside. The shed was dark, with no moonlight filtering through and no electrical lights inside. Jake stood still, holding his breath and listening.  
   
Suddenly a light flared to the side, and Jake turned to see Logan’s black figure standing by the little car. He was holding a flashlight in his teeth and kneeling next to the door of the car. Jake went over as soundlessly as he could. When he was within a couple yards, he could hear Logan muttering soft curses around the flashlight handle as he tried to pick the lock on the car door. Finally it popped open, and Logan pushed it aside and knelt between the door and the side of the car, looking up at the bottom of the steering column.  
   
“You don’t want to do that,” Jake whispered. Logan jumped in surprise and dropped the flashlight, making the beam of light dance over the roof and wall as the flashlight fell and rolled away. Logan whirled to face Jake, his revolver drawn and ready. Jake threw up his empty hands, not wanting Logan to think him a threat in the darkness and shoot him.  
   
Logan breathed out a rough sigh, and Jake assumed he’d been recognized and wasn’t in danger. Or at least, was in less danger. “What the hell to you want?” Logan asked in an angry whisper as he tucked the revolver back into his pocket and knelt to pick up the flashlight.  
   
“You’re going to find your father, right?” Jake asked excitedly. Logan just stared back, probably wondering how Jake had found out about his dad. “Take me with you!”  
   
Logan snorted. “No,” he said, as though the very idea were laughable. Jake flushed with embarrassment.  
   
“I can help you!” Jake argued. “I can! Come on. You might have some experience, but you’ve never hunted by yourself before. You could use another person.”  
   
“Like you?” Logan scoffed. “You don’t know the first thing about hunting. You’d just get in the way and slow me down.”  
   
“I could help! You keep saying that, but you don’t know the things I’ve learned. I’ve burned ghosts and exorcised demons-”  
   
“With Barrett and the woman babysitting you!”  
   
“And what about you?” Jake shot back. “You ever killed anything without your daddy right there beside you?” Logan’s jaw clenched, and Jake knew he’d probably made a mistake in bringing up Logan’s father.  
   
“Besides,” Jake said, changing the subject. “You need me just to get out of here.”  
   
Logan crossed his arms and glared back. “How’s that?”  
   
“That car.” Jake nodded to it. “You think they don’t expect campers to try hotwiring these things and taking them for joyrides? They teach us how to hotwire cars; they expect us to know how to do that, and they expect us to try. They’ve got these cars rigged so that if anyone tried to pull off that bottom panel, the horn starts blaring. Trust me; I’ve seen people try it.”  
   
“And I suppose you know how to get around it?” Logan growled.  
   
“In a manner of speaking.” Jake held up a key ring and jangled it triumphantly. “I have the key.”  
   
“Son of a bitch,” Logan muttered, and Jake just smirked back at him. They stood there, glaring at one another, Jake smirking and Logan scowling as he considered his options. Finally Logan growled out, “Fine! But I’m driving.” He held out his hand to take the keys, and Jake pulled them back.  
   
“No way. If I give you these, you’ll jump in and leave me behind.”  
   
“So give them to me after you’re in the car,” Logan snarled, not backing down. Jake considered it for a moment. If he gave Logan the keys after he was inside, and insisted on getting them back before he stepped out, there was no way Logan could leave him. Jake nodded slowly.  
   
“Alright,” he said. With a smile on his face he brushed past Logan, ignoring the other boy’s glare, and to the back of the car. He unlocked the trunk and dumped his duffle bag inside. Logan followed his example, though he seemed hesitant to get close to Jake.  
   
Jake looked around, considering what else they needed to do before they could leave. His eyes fell on the cracked open door of the shed. “Open the door wider,” Jake whispered to Logan as he closed the trunk. Logan ignored him and went to the driver’s side. He sat down in the seat and pulled the door closed, sitting with his hands on the steering wheel.  
   
Jake rolled his eyes at Logan’s stubbornness. He went to the door of the barn and pulled it open wide enough for the car to fit through, wincing at the noise. He stood outside, listening for any sounds that would suggest someone had heard and was coming to investigate. There was nothing. He turned back into the shed and walked to the passenger side of the car. He took his time unlocking the door and opening it, then sat down and closed the door. Jake buckled his seatbelt and shifted around to get comfortable. When he was, he sighed contentedly and then looked over at Logan and smirked. The other boy rolled his eyes. Jake handed over the keys with an innocent smile. Logan flipped violently through the key ring until he found the one that matched the car, then shoved it in the ignition and turned it with more force than was necessary.  
   
As the car started up, the radio came on and a note of high-volume music blared out. Jake lunged forward and pressed the radio’s power button, and the two boys glanced at each other with wide eyes, both wondering if the noise had woken anyone up. They waited, nearly holding their breath, for a few tense seconds. Everything remained still and silent outside the car. Logan’s hands shifted on the wheel, and Jake slowly settled back into his seat. They exchanged another glance, then Logan carefully put the car in drive and eased it from the shed.  
   
Jake looked around as they drove past the farmhouse towards the road, expecting Barrett to run out with a shotgun at any minute. As they reached the end of the driveway and turned onto the road, he breathed out a little sigh of relief. It wasn’t until they turned onto a different street, though, that he really started to relax.  
   
The calmness didn’t last long, however, as Jake watched the town of Blackwood Grove sliding past his window. They reached the edge of the town, turning at the sign Jake’s bus had stopped at just a few days earlier, and came out onto open highway. The road was empty of cars at this hour and Jake could see nothing ahead or behind but dark trees hemming them in on both sides, and a thin strip of star-speckled sky above. The only sound was the purr of the engine and the wind rushing over the outside of the car as they sped down the empty road, breaking the speed limit by at least twenty miles.  
   
Jake watched the blackness outside his window slip past at a dizzying rate. He could feel a shaky excitement rising up within him, and let out an unsteady breath. This was his first hunt. His first hunt, and it wasn’t with his father as he’d hoped and planned. No, his first hunt would be with another boy his own age, someone who had also never hunted without an adult. So it would be a first for both of them.  
   
Jake smiled to himself as he imagined the different things they might hunt, and all the different ways he could kill them. He couldn’t wait to make his first kill, to prove to Logan and to everyone that he had what it took to be a great hunter.  
   
“So,” Jake said softly, trying to contain his excitement, “where we headed?”  
   
Logan rolled his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully, and Jake suspected he was hesitant about sharing his traveling plans with someone else. “First,” Logan said at length, “we’ll need weapons. I know a guy who deals to hunters, just a couple hours from here. We can stock up on ammo and get some information there.”  
   
“Information?” Jake repeated. Something about the word bothered him. He straightened up in his seat, turning to Logan. “You need information? What kind of information?”  
   
Logan stared straight ahead without responding, his jaw clenched tight. Jake gaped at him in growing horror as it dawned on him: “You mean you don’t even know  _what_  or  _where_  your father is hunting?”  
   
“I know how to find out,” Logan replied grimly. Jake snorted in disbelief. Logan’s father could be anywhere in the country; possibly even in Canada or Mexico too. Jake doubted borders would hinder a hunter. And Logan had a limited time to find him.  
   
“I hope so,” Jake said skeptically.  
   
“I know so,” Logan insisted, and left it at that. Jake sighed but didn’t argue.  
   
Jake watched Logan as he drove. It was dark in the car, with no others on the road and no streetlights around. He could just make out Logan’s shadowed features, set into an expression of grim determination. His hands were clenched on the steering wheel, and although the darkness kept him from seeing Jake could imagine that his knuckles were white with the force of his grip.  
   
Jake slowly turned back to look out his window. He thought, though tempered now by practicality and worry, of the different monsters they might end up facing and the different parts of the country they might have to drive to. He was worried, yes, but even that couldn’t completely tame his excitement. No matter where they might end up or what they might be up against, this was still his first hunt and he was thrilled to be on it.  
   
Soon, though, the excitement gave way to exhaustion, for he had been up since dawn and by the neon numbers on the dash it was now nearly five in the morning. Jake struggled to keep his eyes open and his head upright, but his efforts were in vain. His eyes fell shut and his head hung to the side, and he fell asleep listening to the sound of the engine purring.  
   
   
   
   
Jake jolted awake at a loud noise. He sat upright, fighting a heaviness around his chest, and reached instinctively for a weapon. Finding none, he glanced around quickly with wide eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was in the passenger seat of a car, and he didn’t recognize the landscape outside the windows. The heaviness around his chest was the seatbelt, which had locked when he’d jerked awake. Jake breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes fell on Logan watching him warily, one hand still on the radio dial, and he remembered the events of the previous night.  
   
Jake fell back into his seat and rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. “Morning, Sunshine,” Logan quipped beside him. A grunt was the most eloquent response Jake could manage right then.  
   
Jake attempted to fall back to sleep but the music playing in the car –the sudden loud noise that had woken him- made it impossible. After a minute of trying to sleep and cursing under his breath when he failed, Jake peeked out from behind his hand at the clock on the dashboard. It was ten am. Logan had been driving for five hours. Jake stretched in his seat with a groan, forcing himself to wake up. “Where are we?” he asked, still blinking sleepily in the bright light.  
   
“Southern Ohio,” Logan replied. “Near a place called Maywood. My dad said he was gonna stop at a gun store there before he went on his hunt. The gun dealer, Travis Ware, will probably know where he was headed. And we can stock up on ammo while we’re there.”  
   
Jake nodded, watching Logan as he spoke. The other boy’s eyes were red from lack of sleep and concentrating on the road. Like Jake, Logan had risen at dawn the previous morning, and by this point he probably needed sleep urgently. Jake himself had only gotten five hours’ sleep. He decided to ask Logan after they met the gun dealer if they could get a hotel in Maywood and rest for a few hours before continuing. He doubted Logan would say no.  
   
“I’m starved,” Logan said, breaking Jake’s train of thought. “How ‘bout we stop for breakfast before we go?”  
   
Jake drummed his fingers on his stomach thoughtfully. He wasn’t quite awake enough to be hungry yet, but he knew it was later than he was used to eating breakfast and he would be starving shortly if they waited to eat until they reached the next town. “Okay,” he agreed with a shrug. Logan nodded, and they continued driving in silence broken only by the country music playing on the radio.  
   
   
   
   
Not long after, they pulled off the highway at the exit for Maywood. Logan turned into the parking lot of a little restaurant whose sign proclaimed it to be “Kathy’s” and parked near the entrance of the lot. He started to get out, but Jake, thinking of their disagreement the previous night, said, “Keys.”  
   
Logan turned and looked at him curiously. Jake held out his hand and said again, “Give me the keys.”  
   
Logan seemed to consider it for a moment, then held up the keys, jangling them mockingly, and before Jake’s eyes shoved them firmly into his pants pocket. “No.”  
   
Jake was at a momentary loss for words as Logan looked back at him expectantly, probably waiting for him to get out of the car and follow. “I don’t trust you not to leave me behind,” Jake said at last. “And I’m not getting out of this car unless I know you can’t leave without me.”  
   
“So stay,” Logan replied simply. He slammed the car door in Jake’s stunned face and strolled off towards the restaurant, car keys still held securely in his pocket.  
   
Jake stared after Logan in shock, his brain scrambling to come up with a rejoinder. Surprise swiftly turned to anger, however, and if Logan hadn’t already been inside Jake might have gone after him and tried to pick a fight. As it was, with Logan already out of sight, his first thought was to stay in the car simply to prove to Logan that the other teen couldn’t get the better of him by refusing to hand over the keys. He was resolute in his choice to not put himself in a position where Logan could take the car and leave him behind, partly because he truly didn’t trust him, but mainly out of childish spite. He didn’t want Logan to think that by not giving Jake the keys Logan could get Jake to be vulnerable to him.   
   
Truly, though, outside of his immature initial reaction, Jake didn’t believe that he could trust Logan not to sneak back to the car and go on without him, if he were to get up and go into the restaurant. The other teen clearly believed Jake would be more of a hindrance than an aid on this hunt, something Jake was desperate to prove wrong. If Logan thought that he could travel faster or hunt better without Jake, there was no doubt in Jake’s mind that Logan would leave him behind the first chance he got. Jake knew that he could take care of himself if he were to be left alone without a car, enough to find his way back to camp in one piece at least, and whatever Logan thought of his hunting ability he knew it too and wouldn’t feel any guilt in leaving Jake to fend for himself. And while Jake didn’t think he would be in danger if Logan left him, he wanted to go on this hunt. He wanted to prove to Logan that he could help -not hinder- him on this hunt, and he wanted to experience for himself the thrills of tracking, fighting, and killing a creature. He did not want to be left behind.  
   
Thus, out of mixed spite and mistrust, Jake remained in the car. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest, thinking how much he hated Logan, and how he would prove to Logan that he was just as good a hunter, if not better. Perhaps he would end up saving Logan’s life. That would force the other teen to admit his prowess, and would leave Logan indebted to him. Jake smiled to himself as he imagined the scenario, thinking that he would pay Logan back for this moment.  
   
Slowly, though, as his body woke more fully, Jake’s stomach started to make its emptiness known, and hunger began to get the better of him. Jake wondered if this would happen every time they stopped to eat, if he would always have to make a choice between going without food and giving Logan the opportunity to leave him behind. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, looking out the window at the restaurant. He thought he could just barely smell bacon frying from where he sat in the car. Jake’s stomach growled, as if mocking him and his position. Jake closed his eyes and groaned, clutching his stomach. He started muttering swear words at Logan, the kind that would make his schoolteacher mother threaten to wash his mouth out with soap, mainly picked up from Barrett or his father when one of them was mad. He was just about to cave and go inside when a familiar voice spoke.  
   
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Jake cracked open one eye and glared at Logan as the other teen climbed into the car, a satisfied smile on his face. He didn’t bother answering the question. “Well,” Logan said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m stuffed. Let’s go see Travis.” He started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot, ignoring the death glare Jake was leveling with the side of his head.  
   
   
   
   
They drove near the outside of the town for a few minutes until they came to a little gun shop. It was on the edge of the town though not near the interstate, one of a handful of small stores on a dead-end road and the only one that looked regularly inhabited. Logan pulled up outside and stepped from the car, once again taking the keys with him. Jake weighed his options for a moment before following. He figured that if he kept a close eye on Logan, the other teen wouldn’t be able to get in the car without him. Besides, he didn’t want to be left behind; he’d never been in a hunters’ gun shop before.  
   
The sign out front said “Ware’s Hunting Supply Store,” and faded advertisements on the windows proclaimed a buy one get one half off promotion for all handguns on Tuesdays and free rifle lessons for children under twelve. There was a bell over the door that rang as Jake stepped inside. The inside was brightly lit, clean and well organized, a sharp contrast to the rundown appearance of the outside. The store was filled with racks of brightly polished guns, all secured in some way so that people couldn’t handle them without the owner’s consent. Most of the guns were rifles and Jake figured that the civilian clientele, what little there probably was, were all traditional hunters. Low shelves of ammunition, gun oil and rags, and replacement parts took up one corner of the shop. Racks of camouflage clothing and shelves of boots occupied another. Other types of weapons were hanging on the walls too: machetes, knives, mechanical bows, and in glass cases other exotic-looking things Jake wasn’t quite sure what to call. Then Jake realized that while he’d been staring Logan had gone straight up to the counter in the back, and he hurried after him.  
   
There was no one at the register, so Logan tapped the little bell lying next to it. Immediately there was a noise from the other side of the door behind the counter, a heavy thumping and dragging that reminded Jake of furniture being moved, then heavy footsteps followed. The door swung open and a man perhaps in his late twenties with military-short blonde hair emerged from the back room, wiping gun oil from his hands with a rag. He was wearing a green shirt and camouflage pants, and Jake wondered if he had actually been enlisted or if the clothes were just for traditional hunting. “Logan,” the man said with a grin when he saw who it was. “Just saw your daddy about a week ago.”  
   
“That’s why I’m here, Travis.” Logan gave the man a nod of greeting, but didn’t waste time chatting. “He didn’t happen to say where he was going, did he?”  
   
“West somewhere,” the man, Travis Ware, said after a moment’s thought. “Think he was gonna stop at Ross’ and see what he could scout out; probably told them more specifics.”  
   
“He buy anything?”  
   
Ware snorted. “’Buy’ ain’t exactly the word I’d use. He ran up a pretty big tab; swore he’d pay it all back when he came by again.” Jake saw that Logan seemed to stiffen and become more alert at those words.  
   
“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to put any more on the tab, then.” It was a question disguised as a statement, and Ware shook his head.  
   
“Sorry, man. Bad business to let someone run a tab twice without paying. In this line of work, even the most trustworthy customer don’t always come back.”  
   
Logan bit his lip as he considered his situation. “What did he get?”  
   
“Three different shotguns,” Ware said thoughtfully. “A full auto: something I just got into, very illegal, very expensive, and not something I’d sell to just anyone. Regular ammo for it, a rifle, two handguns, some regular ammo for them, silver-plated bullets for the rifle, salt cartridges for the shotguns, a machete, and a bowie knife. Just your basic stock-up.”  
   
“So you have no idea what he was going after?”  
   
“Nope.” Ware frowned at Logan, his eyes narrowing. “You’re his kid; shouldn’t you  _know_ where he’s headed and what he’s after? I’ve never seen you without him. What’re you doing on your own?”  
   
“Off on my first solo hunt, since I turned eighteen,” Logan lied easily. “Haven’t been keeping up with what he’s doing. I tried to call him a few days ago and couldn’t get through. Kept trying and still couldn’t, so I started to get a little worried. Trying to track him down now. Brought a, ah,  _friend_.” He eyed Jake disdainfully as he said it.  
   
“Damn,” Ware muttered sympathetically. “Hope you find him alright. Luke’s a good man; a good hunter. But you know,” he said, his tone changing. “If Luke is MIA, I can’t let you leave without paying his tab; you draw from it too.”  
   
Logan stuck his hands in his pockets and took a step back from the counter. He was biting his lip again, which Jake knew by now was a sure sign of uncertainty or nervousness. “How much?” Jake could tell from his tone that he didn’t have that kind of money; he’d probably been hoping to put anything they bought on the tab.  
   
Ware seemed to see it too. “I’ll just take whatever you can spare right now,” he said, his voice gruffly gentle. Logan sighed heavily and reached into his pockets. He threw a couple bills down, reached into the other pocket, and put down more. All in all, the cash Logan had on hand amounted to two hundred thirty-four dollars.  
   
Ware frowned as he counted up the bills. “Hard up just now, huh, Logan?” he asked sympathetically. Logan averted his eyes and didn’t answer.  
   
Jake remembered suddenly the money that he’d brought to camp. He’d left his wallet in his duffle bag when he unpacked the first day, only to move it to his pants pocket when he ran out of room in the duffle while repacking. A grin spread across his face as he realized that he had the power to get Logan out of a tight spot. Logan would owe him. “I’ve got some,” Jake said, and both Ware and Logan looked at him in surprise.  
   
Jake pulled out his wallet and started laying bills on the counter. He’d brought quite a bit with him from home, what he’d figured would be enough to last him a little while taking the bus and staying in hotels before he found a place to buy himself a used car and some more weapons to start his hunting career. He had plenty more saved up in his bank account, left over from a lifetime of gifts and a couple part-time jobs, and if it came down to it he didn’t think his mother would refuse him that college fund if he told her he wasn’t planning on going.  
   
Jake had enough to cover Logan’s father’s tab and a few cases of ammo, which Logan insisted on buying instead of guns when he found out Jake had brought a shotgun of his own. They left the store with one case of silver-plated bullets, two of salt cartridges, and one of regular bullets, with only a couple dollars left between them. “Guess you owe me, huh?” Jake said smugly as they went back to the car, Jake holding the ammo as insurance against Logan’s keys.  
   
“Owe you?” Logan echoed indignantly, though it seemed somewhat forced. “You shouldn’t have let him know you had that much cash! He was gonna let us go without paying all of it. Now we don’t even have enough for a room tonight.”  
   
“No,” Jake admitted, realizing that Logan was right. He brushed it off and grinned; he could worry about that after he’d rubbed it in Logan’s face a little more. “But we do have enough for some breakfast for me,” he said as they eased into their seats and Logan started the car. “Let’s stop again.”  
   
“What do you think the take-out box in the back is?” Logan asked, keeping his eyes on the road. Jake glanced at him curiously, then looked into the back seat of the car. Sure enough, there was a Styrofoam take-out box wrapped in a plastic bag lying on the back seat. Jake leaned back and grabbed it, then settled into his seat and untied the handles of the bag. He could smell the bacon now, which he’d thought earlier had been his imagination.  
   
Jake pushed aside the bag, finding a set of plastic silverware and little packets of butter and syrup thrown in around the box, and opened the lid. Inside he saw a stack of small pancakes, two over easy eggs, a little pile of fried potatoes, bacon, and a carton of milk. He could still feel the warmth of the food through the bottom of the box. He looked at Logan and grinned, but the other boy was still concentrating on the road. Jake thought he might have been blushing a little. Jake opened his silverware and started eating, thinking that maybe Logan wasn’t such a bad guy after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Jake looked around as Logan pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot of a bar. After stopping in the lot of a Wal-Mart in Maywood and catching a few hours of greatly needed sleep inside the car, they’d gotten lunch at a fast-food drive-thru and gotten back on the road to drive until it got dark, at which point Logan proclaimed that it was time they got some money for a hotel. They had pulled off the state road at the next small town they found, and this dingy-looking bar, Smokey’s Grill, was the first place they’d stopped. “We’re gonna hustle pool?” Jake asked excitedly.  
   
“We’re gonna hustle pool,” Logan confirmed with a little smile.  
   
“How we gonna play it? You and me play, one of us throws it, and then makes bets with someone else?”  
   
“Sure,” Logan agreed. “If that’s how you want it. How much money do you have left?”  
   
Jake pulled out his wallet, sighing when he saw how little was in it compared to that morning. “Twelve dollars.”  
   
“I’ve got three.” Logan held them up. “We’ll play, I’ll lose and give you the money, and then I’ll find someone else to play against.”  
   
Jake gave him a suspicious look. “Do you think you can beat whoever’s in there?”  
   
“You think I can’t?” Logan scoffed.  
   
“I’ve never seen you play. I don’t know how good you are. I do know how good  _I_ am.”  
   
Logan laughed. “Okay, hot shot,  _you_  throw the game. It’ll be fun watching you lose to me. Just don’t come crying to me if you lose your next game and have to pay money you don’t got.” Logan held out his three bills, his eyes dancing, and Jake snatched them from his hand and glared at him.  
   
“I won’t lose,” Jake insisted. Logan just shrugged and smiled, like he was mocking Jake. Jake scowled at him as he tucked the bills into his pocket. He knew that the only way to prove himself to Logan was with actions, not words.  
   
Logan turned off the car and climbed out. Jake got out and started to follow him, but Logan’s voice stopped him. “We shouldn’t go in together; they’ll suspect something.” Logan tossed something over his shoulder as he walked away, and Jake lunged forward to catch it. “Follow me after five minutes,” Logan said, and Jake watched him disappear through the door of the bar and glanced at his watch. Then he opened his hand to see what it was that Logan had thrown.  
   
It was the keys to the car. Jake had been so excited to hustle pool that he’d forgotten to ask for them, but Logan had given them to him anyway. Jake smiled as he tucked the keys into his pocket. Maybe by the end of this trip he’d stop being surprised by the things Logan did.  
   
   
   
   
Jake’s heart was pounding when he followed after Logan exactly five minutes later. The inside of the bar was dark. Only a few hazy lights were on. There was no smoke in the air, since smoking indoors had been outlawed in most places, but the ceiling showed stains from it and a faint smell still lingered in the walls. Advertisements for different beer brands and a few racks of antlers decorated the walls. Music played from a jukebox in the corner. The bar counter was almost completely full of people, and a few other tables were occupied. Jake took a seat at a small table and waved to a waitress. She brought him a menu and he glanced over it briefly, then peeked over it to look for Logan.  
   
Logan stood by the bar’s sole pool table, the only bright spot in the bar with the long light hanging over it. Although he had no opponent that Jake could see he was leaned over the table taking aim at a ball, as if practicing his shots. Jake noticed a few men standing nearby watching Logan, like they were waiting for the table to be empty. Jake guessed they would be the ones to make bets with.  
   
Jake stood and went over to watch from the other side of the table as the men. He noticed that Logan only had the ten and the eight ball left, and wondered if Logan had shot all of the others into their pockets already. If he had, then Jake was impressed: Logan had only been in the bar for a little while, and to clear the table so quickly meant he must be a pretty good shot. But then, he probably shouldn’t be surprised by Logan’s skill; after all, like Rae, he’d been traveling with his father and had probably gotten used to earning money by hustling.  
   
Jake watched as Logan easily shot the eight ball into the pocket he’d been aiming for and straightened up. “Hey,” Jake called out, and Logan glanced at him and nodded in greeting, concentrating on putting chalk on the tip of his pool stick. “You look like you need someone to play against. Can I get in on a game?”  
   
“How good are you?” Logan asked as he started setting up the balls again.  
   
Jake smirked. “I’m pretty good.”  
   
“Yeah?” Logan looked up at him with a bored expression, though his eyes were critical. Jake stared back, un-intimidated. “I’m pretty good too. You want to put some money on this?”  
   
“Why not?” Jake shrugged. “Fifteen good? Since it’s just a friendly game.”  
   
“That’s fine.” Logan finished setting up the balls while Jake selected a cue from the rack nearby. “You break.”  
   
Jake took careful aim and shot into the mass of balls. He put a stripe in. He knew he could probably get another on his second shot, but he was supposed to be losing this game. He missed on purpose. Logan made no comment, didn’t even look at Jake, but with a look of concentration took aim at one of his solids. He got it in easily, then somehow knocked two in on his second shot. He got another in on his third shot, then missed. Jake suspected he might have missed on purpose. Logan had a solid three-ball lead, and Jake decided that maybe he didn’t have to pretend to be so bad.  
   
Jake got another stripe in, then a third. He took aim at another, fully intending to get it in, but missed. He swore, glaring at the ball as it bounced off the wall just next to the pocket he’d been aiming for. Logan was smirking; he knew Jake hadn’t meant to miss that shot. Logan got the next ball in, then shot a combination off one of Jake’s to get his second-to last ball. Jake frowned as he watched Logan shoot his last non-eight solid in. Logan was better than he’d given him credit for.  
   
Logan took aim at the eight ball but missed, surely on purpose. He gave Jake a look when their eyes met over the table, and Jake knew Logan had given him this shot meaning for him to miss: he’d been playing too well so far. Jake took aim at one of his stripes, aiming for a corner pocket. It bounced off the edge of the pocket and rolled towards the nearest corner, which the eight ball was resting by. It almost put the eight ball in, which Jake hadn’t intended, and he sighed in relief when the eight ball wobbled but remained on the table. Logan rolled his eyes. He tapped the corner pocket the eight ball was next to with the tip of his pool cue, and then took aim. He shot a combination off Jake’s stripe, putting the eight ball in but leaving the stripe still resting on the edge of the pocket.  
   
Logan turned to Jake. “Guess you’re not as good as you thought,” he said. Jake frowned down at the table, not looking at Logan.  
   
“I think you’re just more than ‘pretty good.’” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the fifteen dollars they had collected and handed it across to Logan. “What do you say to another game? Let me win my pride back.” He grinned playfully, and Logan smirked.  
   
“Nah. I’m gonna go have dinner, on you.” He held up the money Jake had just handed over, then turned away and went to the bar. Jake looked back at the table, frowning at it. He’d lost, and not just because he’d thrown the game. He didn’t doubt that if he had let Logan brake, there would only have been eight shots made in the entire game. Maybe fewer.  
   
Jake sighed and looked up. His eyes fell on the other men who had watched their game, and he grinned. “What about you guys? Up for a game, same stakes?”  
   
The men looked at each other, nodding. One of them stepped forward. “I’ll play. But let’s raise the stakes. You got fifty dollars to spare?”  
   
Jake grimaced as though thinking about it and coming to a conclusion. “Just barely,” he lied.  
   
“Alright then,” the other man said with a smirk. “I’ll break.”  
   
   
   
   
Jake felt much better after he won his first game and the man handed over the fifty dollars he’d bet. It was satisfying, after the crushing defeat from Logan, to know that he was perfectly in control of the game, knew exactly how many shots he could give up to look like he was a poor player and still manage to win. He felt even better after he’d won twice against the first man and once each against three of his four buddies, upping the stakes as he went, to win a total of three hundred fifty dollars.  
   
“How about we play for beer?” Jake asked as the fifth man picked up a pool stick. “Loser buys the winner a pitcher?”  
   
“You even old enough to buy beer?” the man asked brusquely. Jake snorted.  
   
“I just won’t lose, then.” Jake replied, a little annoyed by the question and also a little worried, because he really was too young to be drinking and the last thing he wanted was for someone to give his description to the cops.  
   
Ten minutes later, though, Jake had a pitcher of beer in front of him. He took a gulp from it, enjoying the burn over his tongue and throat. Then he looked up at the men and grinned. “Who’s next? We can play for cash or beer.”  
   
The next opponent, the first man again, wanted to play for cash. He put up double his loses of one hundred fifty dollars, which was only fifty less than all Jake had won. Nevertheless, Jake agreed, and won another three hundred dollars.  
   
Jake grinned as he took another gulp of his beer pitcher, which was already almost half gone. He was feeling good about tonight. He wondered how much more he could get out of these men.  
   
From the corner of his eye Jake noticed Logan standing at the edge of the crowd. He stopped for a moment to stare at the other boy, admiring the way the shadows played across his face and brought out the sharpness of his features, making him seem older and more mature. Then Jake realized that Logan was subtly motioning to him, like he wanted him to go over. “I’m headed to the bathroom,” Jake told the group of men. “You can decide who’s gonna play me next while I’m gone.”  
   
Jake went into the bathroom, glancing back over his shoulder as he pushed open the door to see if Logan was following. The other teen wasn’t even looking at him. Jake stood in the empty bathroom for a moment, wondering if Logan would come in to talk to him or if he’d been supposed to go straight over to Logan. Just then the door swung open and Logan stalked up to him, getting in Jake’s face and making him feel every centimeter of the one-inch height difference. From this distance, Jake could almost count the lashes framing the other boy’s green-brown eyes. “What’re you thinking?” Logan asked angrily.  
   
“What?” Jake spread his arms wide in a gesture of innocence. “I’m winning money. Isn’t that why we came here?”  
   
“Did you  _see_  how angry those guys look? Especially the one you just took for three hundred dollars? They’re pissed, Jake. You’ve pushed them too far. Much more of this, and they’re probably gonna try jumping you in the parking lot to get their money back, and if you’re stupid enough to keep playing I’ll let them and I won’t help you.”  
   
“Come on, Logan,” Jake said, a grin on his face. “I know what I’m doing.” Logan looked like he was going to say something more, but he stopped, his expression changing from annoyance to confusion, then disbelief.  
   
“Are you drunk?” Logan asked in a dangerously soft voice. “You don’t even have a fake license! What if they card you? I will leave your ass in jail if the police get involved!”  
   
“Relax, Logan. I bet the guy a pitcher of beer, and I won. I didn’t try to buy it myself.”  
   
“What if you’d lost?”  
   
“I didn’t!” Jake cried defensively. Logan rolled his eyes.  
   
“I can’t believe your stupidity,” Logan snarled. “It’s not just the police I’m worried about. A hunter needs to be alert at all times; you’re no good to me in a fight if you’re drunk. Now, listen. Those guys are pissed, and I wouldn’t put it past them to be planning something while we’re in here. You are not going back to that pool table. You’re going to come with me to the back room and do exactly as I tell you. Understand?”  
   
Jake nodded mutely and Logan turned and left the room without saying any more. Jake followed him out, and then towards the back of the restaurant. He hadn’t had any idea what was back there when he’d agreed to follow Logan, but now he found that the back room had been booked for some kind of party. A banner over the top of one wall read “Happy 21st Leslie.”  
   
Jake followed Logan as the other teen went to a table in the middle of the room with food spread over it. Logan got a plate and began dishing food onto it as though he was just another party guest, and Jake followed his example. When they’d both piled as much as they wanted on their plates, they went to one of the little tables and sat down. A waitress came over and asked if she could bring them anything to drink. Logan asked for soda, and gave Jake a look that clearly said he’d be in trouble if he asked for anything alcoholic. Jake asked for soda too.  
   
They ate in silence, not looking at each other. Logan finished first and got up, leaving Jake alone. Jake didn’t know where he’d gone, but he wasn’t worried. Logan had given him the keys, and he had all the cash. Logan wouldn’t, and couldn’t, leave without him.  
   
When the waitress came back Jake asked for a beer, just to prove that Logan couldn’t tell him what to do. When it was brought, he poured the beer into his half-empty soda glass and set the beer can on the table behind his, so that Logan wouldn’t notice it and yell at him for it when he came back. Then Jake watched the people milling about and nibbled his food and sipped his beer and cola while he waited for Logan to get back.  
   
A shadow fell over Jake’s table and he looked up, expecting to see Logan glaring at him because he’d somehow figured out what Jake was drinking. But it wasn’t Logan standing over his table. It was a man Jake didn’t recognize, college-aged, early twenties, with black hair and brown eyes. “Hey,” the man greeted with a grin. “I’m Craig; I’m Leslie’s boyfriend. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. How do you know her?”  
   
Jake’s mouth fell open but no sound came out as he scrambled to come up with an explanation. This man, Craig, didn’t seem to be asking because he was suspicious, just friendly, but Jake had no idea what to say. He knew the man wouldn’t remain unsuspicious for long if Jake said the wrong thing.  
   
“I’m,” Jake began, not really knowing what he was going to say, but a familiar voice interrupted him.  
   
“We’re friends of her little brother, Michael,” Logan said smoothly. “I’m Luke; this is Tyler.” He nodded to Jake.  
   
“Ah, cool,” Craig said. “But I don’t think I saw you at Michael’s birthday party a few months ago.”  
   
“We’re on the baseball team,” Logan said. “We had an away game that day and couldn’t go. We gave him the winning baseball as a birthday present when we got back.” Logan grinned casually when Craig laughed. Jake wondered where he was getting all this.  
   
“Yeah, that’s right, I heard. State championship baseball, he was pretty happy about that. Oh, I gotta go; birthday girl’s waving to me.” They turned to see a young woman with bleached blonde hair waving to Craig. He waved back. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around. Go Northside Tigers!” Jake assumed that must be the school and baseball team.  
   
“Go Tigers,” Logan agreed, grinning at Craig as he turned and left. When he was gone Logan dropped into the seat across from Jake and rubbed a hand over his face, as though smiling so much was a strain for him. Jake was surprised by the way the shadows and the tiredness in Logan’s expression made him seem world-weary and worn, as though he’d lived much longer than his eighteen years.  
   
“How did you do that?” Jake asked in amazement.  
   
“I talked to people.” Logan shrugged. “I had nothing better to do while you were playing, so I came over here and scoped out the party. I found out everything I could about the birthday girl and her family, so that I’d be able to bullshit my way through any questions people tried to ask me.”  
   
“So,” Logan sighed. “I saw you take another three hundred from that first guy. How much did you get altogether?”  
   
“Six hundred fifty dollars.” Jake grinned and started to pull the wad of cash from his pocket to show it off, but Logan stopped him.  
   
“Not now; don’t show off that kind of money in front of other people. C’mon, let’s get back to the car and find us a hotel.” Jake nodded and started to stand, but as he did his hand knocked over his drink, and it spilled over the table.  
   
“I’m sorry,” Jake said to the waitress who rushed to clean it up. He hurriedly backed up to get out of her way. Jake could see Logan rolling his eyes at him for drawing attention to them as they tried to leave.  
   
They managed to slip out the back of the bar, something Logan insisted on to avoid the men from the pool table, without any trouble, and then they walked around the front to the car. “Keys,” Logan demanded when they got to the car. Jake looked at him curiously for a moment, then remembered that yes, he did have the keys. Now where did he have the keys again?  
   
Jake rummaged through his pockets and frowned. He pulled out the money and set it on the hood of the car, then dug in his pocket again. Still he found nothing. “You left the keys inside somewhere,” Logan groaned. “Fuck it. Stay here and don’t move; I’ll go back and look.”  
   
“Wait!” Jake cried. He patted his back pocket and then grinned and pulled out the keys triumphantly. He’d moved them from his front pocket to his back when the wad of cash got too big. “I got them.”  
   
“You idiot,” Logan muttered. “Get in the car. Grab the money before you get in the car, moron. Okay,  _now_  get in the car. And buckle your seat belt.”  
   
Finally everything seemed to meet Logan’s approval, and he started up the car. Jake grinned as they pulled out of the bar parking lot and began driving through the little town they’d stopped at. His head was still buzzing pleasantly from the alcohol he’d had, and he was feeling very proud of himself for winning so much money.  
   
Logan pulled up in front of a shabby-looking hotel. “Stay here,” he ordered, then went inside to book a room. Moments later Logan returned. He dropped two room keys on the console, glaring at Jake when he snatched them both up, and drove around to the side of the motel. He held out the car keys somewhat reluctantly. “Don’t lose them.”  
   
“I won’t!” Jake cried indignantly.  
   
“Better not,” Logan muttered as he handed them over. Jake glared at him, but Logan ignored him and climbed out of the car. “Grab anything you need for the night,” he told Jake as he went to the trunk. They both picked out a change of clothes and whatever toiletries they needed.  
   
“Hold on a second,” Logan said. He pulled both duffle bags and the jug of gasoline that lay behind them from the car and dropped them on the ground, ignoring Jake’s whine of protest about his bag getting dirty, then opened the compartment meant to hold the spare tire. “Help me,” he ordered, and the two of them pulled the tire out as well. Then Logan reached into his duffle bag. Jake watched in awe as the other teen emptied two shotguns, a handgun, a rifle, a crossbow, the boxes of ammunition they’d bought, three different knives, a machete, an EMF reader, a bag of salt, and a wallet full of fake ID’s from his bag into the tire compartment. He noticed that the revolver remained in Logan’s pocket, where it had been the entire day.  
   
“So no one sees it if they break in or if we get pulled over,” Logan explained. “You got anything?”  
   
Jake felt shamefully ill-prepared as he placed his own shotgun, knife, and box of salt cartridges next to Logan’s arsenal. Then Logan closed the compartment and they both shoved the tire into the trunk and threw their bags and the jug of gas in front of it. “Alright, good,” Logan sighed once everything had been stored to his satisfaction.  
   
Jake followed Logan to their room and tried to unlock the door. He struggled to fit the card into the slot, frowning when it kept sliding to the side. Finally he managed to get it in and he grinned at Logan, who only scowled in return.  
   
“You’re drunk,” Logan growled as the door closed behind them. “You had more to drink after I got you away from the pool table. Even though I told you that a hunter always needs to be alert!” He stepped forward as he spoke, so that there was only an inch or two between their noses and Jake could clearly see the way the color of his eyes went from green on the outside to brown next to the pupil. Logan was trying to intimidate Jake again, but the effort was lost on him.  
   
“Your eyes are pretty,” Jake told the other teen. Logan snorted and shoved past him into the room. Jake turned towards Logan again and watched him go over to one of the beds and pull back the covers to inspect it. He admired the way Logan moved, the shift of his muscles beneath his shirt, and the way the light made his hair look even more blonde when Logan switched on the bedside lamp. “You’re pretty.”  
   
Logan turned to Jake, one eyebrow raised. “You’re not gay,” Logan said. It was a statement, not a question, and it confused Jake.  
   
“No,” Jake said. He wasn’t gay- or at least, he didn’t think he was. He’d never found another man attractive before. All the same, there was something undeniably beautiful about Logan; anyone could see it. “But you’re still pretty.”  
   
Logan dropped his things onto his chosen bed and turned back to Jake with a sigh. Speaking slowly, as one would to a small child, he said, “You are not sexually attracted to men. You’re just drunk. Sleep it off, and maybe tomorrow night you can find a nice pretty girl to flirt with.”  
   
“You’re attractive,” Jake insisted.  
   
Logan frowned and crossed his arms. “Are you saying that you find me attractive? Or just stating a fact?”  
   
Jake cocked his head to the side, considering. Did he find Logan attractive? That morning, or any other time since he’d met Logan, he would have said no, but right now… “I don’t know,” Jake said honestly.  
   
Logan threw up his hands. “I’m not having this discussion with you. You’re drunk. And even if you were sober, I’m not going to help some bi-curious kid figure out if he’s gay or not. I have better things to do with my time. I don’t mess around with people who don’t know what they want.” Logan turned away and started looking through the list of TV channels.  
   
“Are you gay?” Jake asked as he sat down on the other bed. Logan turned to him slowly, and his lip curled into a sneer.  
   
“Bi, and damn proud of it. I know what I am; I know what I want. I’m not going to let an insecure, confused kid use me as part of his experimentation. Especially not a kid who’s probably going to decide he’s straight and want to forget he ever did anything with a man. I have more self-respect than that.”  
   
Logan turned away, then picked up the remote and switched on the TV. When he spoke again, he was pointedly not facing Jake. “You’re only talking like this because you’re drunk. In the morning you’ll remember what you find attractive: breasts and curves and softness. Not flat chests and hard muscle.” He fell silent then, and Jake let the conversation drop.  
   
Jake watched Logan thoughtfully as the other boy concentrated on the television. Even through the fog of booze, he was still a little hurt by Logan’s curt rejection. At the same time, though, he had to admit that Logan was right: Jake had no idea what he wanted, and Logan was under no obligation to help him figure it out. Jake watched the light of the TV play over Logan’s face, watched his features slowly relax as the anger from their conversation faded. He decided that whatever he himself felt, Logan was definitely objectively beautiful.  
   
“I’m going to take a shower,” Jake muttered, and pulled a pair of boxers from his clean clothes to put on afterwards. Logan made no indication that he’d heard, although Jake knew he must have. Jake sighed and turned away from the other teen towards the bathroom.  
   
   
   
   
When Jake exited the bathroom, Logan got up and went in behind him without a word. Jake sighed and dropped onto his bed. He picked up the remote from where Logan had placed it on the night stand and began flipping through the channels. His mind was a little clearer now, after a warm shower and some time to let the haze wear off, and just like Logan had told him he would, he was starting to regret everything he’d said.  
   
So Logan was objectively attractive. Jake had known plenty of boys who were objectively attractive. He’d always compared himself to them, wishing he could have their looks. He’d never commented on it to them, and he’d certainly never been confused as to whether or not he found them attractive himself. He didn’t know why he’d said the things he did. And he definitely didn’t know why it still hurt a little that Logan had turned him down so completely. Even if the other teen had been right in saying that Jake would later regret the things he said.  
   
The bathroom door opened and Jake looked up as Logan stepped out. The other boy had a towel wrapped around his waist, and Jake could clearly see the scars spattered over his chest. Again he was struck by a feeling of grudging respect and jealousy. He wished he had something to show for battles with deadly creatures. Unfortunately, he hadn’t battled anything yet.  
   
“Where did you get those scars?” The words were out of Jake’s mouth before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted it. Given Logan’s temperament after their earlier discussion, he would probably just get mad at Jake for asking questions.  
   
Logan glanced up at him, at first looking defensive, then simply tired. “There are too many to tell in one night.”  
   
He didn’t seem angry. Jake stood and went over to him, and Logan looked back suspiciously. “How about…” Jake picked a scar at random. “This one?” He pointed to a scar on Logan’s left shoulder, a red, raised strip of flesh that couldn’t be very old yet. Logan looked at the scar and bit his lip. Jake took that as a good sign, because it meant Logan was considering telling him rather than dismissing the request outright.  
   
“Ghost hunt,” Logan said after a moment. He wasn’t looking at Jake, but at the scar. As he spoke, he lifted his hand and ran his fingertips over the rough skin. “A couple months ago. I figured, it’s just a ghost, just a simple salt-and-burn. I’ve done plenty of them, so this won’t be very difficult.” Logan fell silent for a moment before continuing. “I let my guard down. I lost my gun, and the ghost attacked me with a saw blade. I was lucky; I managed to dodge enough to avoid getting my collarbone broken.” Logan’s finger stilled on his scar, and his hand fell. “After it cut me I was able to grab my gun again, and I shot it. My dad set fire to the body before it could come back again. I had to go to the hospital, and I got thirty stitches.”  
   
“Wow,” Jake whispered in amazement. He reached out to touch the scar, but stopped. Logan would probably get angry if Jake touched him. He let his hand drop to his side. “That’s so awesome.”  
   
Logan snorted and turned away. “Why do you care about my scars anyway?” he muttered.  
   
“They’re cool,” Jake said. Logan glanced back at him almost curiously, and Jake took it as a good sign and continued. “They’re like badges of honor: they show that you were injured in combat, hurt trying to save other people. They show how strong you are, fighting against something that could kill you and coming out alive.”  
   
“They’re ugly,” Logan murmured, turning away from Jake. Jake could see three more scars over Logan’s back. “Ugly, awful flaws in the skin.” Logan glanced back at Jake and his lips quirked in a wry smile. “Contrary to popular belief, girls don’t actually think scars are sexy. Especially when you have a whole bunch of them and no plausible explanation. They just think it’s ugly.”  
   
“I don’t think they’re ugly,” Jake said. “I think they’re beautiful.”  
   
Logan shook his head as though he thought Jake was a lost cause. “You have a skewed perspective.”  
   
“Maybe,” Jake admitted. “But it’s the same as yours: a hunter’s perspective.” Jake moved closer to Logan, and the other boy looked away again. “There’s no mark on your body that you need to be ashamed of,” Jake said gravely. “You should be proud of every battle wound: they show that you’ve suffered for the sake of other people, that you’ve faced things that have killed others, and survived. If other people can’t appreciate that, they can’t appreciate any part of the person you are. They aren’t worth your time.”  
   
Logan glanced at Jake, then looked away again. “Maybe,” he said slowly, but Jake could see that he was smiling just a little.  
   
“Definitely,” Jake insisted, and although Logan ducked his head, Jake could see his smile widen. Jake turned away from Logan and went back to his own bed. He pulled back the covers and crawled under, then concentrated on the television. He heard the rustle of fabric as Logan’s towel dropped and the other teen pulled on a fresh pair of boxers, then slid under the covers of the bed. When the noise stopped, Jake turned back to Logan and saw him facing the TV.  
   
“You watching this?” Jake asked.  
   
“Not really.”  
   
“Okay if I turn it off?”  
   
“Sure.”  
   
“You ready to turn the lights out and go to bed?”  
   
“Go ahead.”  
   
Jake flicked off the TV, then the bedside lamp. Instantly the room was bathed in darkness. Jake lay down and tried to concentrate on sleep. The sounds of Logan shifting in bed to get comfortable seemed much louder, in this little room so close together, than they had in the huge barn full of other kids. Finally everything was quiet. Too quiet.  
   
“Hey, Logan?” Jake called softly.  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“You have to tell me about another one tomorrow.”  
   
He heard Logan laugh softly. “You got any scars?”  
   
“A few. No hunting scars, though.”  
   
“Way I see it, you owe me a story tomorrow night, not the other way around.”  
   
“Fine. Tell me the night after, then.” Logan laughed but didn’t reply, and Jake smiled. “G’night,” he murmured.  
   
There was silence for a moment, and Jake wondered if saying goodnight wasn’t too childish a thing for Logan to do. Then he heard the other boy answer him softly. “Night.”  
   
Jake grinned as he burrowed down into his covers. The night had started out awkwardly, and he still regretted and didn’t understand some of the things he’d said. But it seemed that Logan was starting to like him, maybe, a little. Somehow that made Jake ridiculously happy.  
  



	6. Chapter 6

The second day of their journey was somewhat more comfortable than the first. Several times Jake fell into silent thought, remembering the things he had said and felt the previous night and wondering whether or not he really did feel something for Logan. But Logan himself never brought it up, and seemed to have put it out of his mind. He was much less hostile to Jake; the silences between them were companionable, and the few times they did speak it was with less antagonism than the previous day. Whenever they stopped to eat or relieve themselves Logan handed Jake they keys without being prompted. Jake was beginning to think that he might have trusted Logan to keep the keys to the car, but since Logan seemed content to give them to him he didn’t comment on it.  
   
As they went back to the car after stopping for a late lunch at a roadside diner, Jake handed the keys back to Logan. He was carrying a takeout box that held the remainder of a pizza they’d split- sausage and ham, their mutual favorite. Jake slid into his seat and pulled the door closed as Logan started the car. “You know,” Jake said, “if you get tired of driving, I can do it.”  
   
“I like driving,” Logan replied simply. The car rumbled to life and warm air began to pour from the vents as the radio started up in the middle of a twanging country song.  
   
“Do you like country music?” Jake asked.  
   
“I don’t mind it,” Logan said, “and it’s the only thing you can get outside of the big towns. You can flip through the stations if you like; I guarantee you won’t find anything else. Besides, I can identify with some of them.” Logan turned up the radio just as the artist sang something about a wanderer getting back on the road again. He glanced over at Jake with a little smile, and Jake grinned in return.  
   
“So,” Jake said, figuring that things were going fairly well and he had a good chance of getting Logan to keep talking. “Other than ‘west,’ you still don’t know where your father was going. What’s the plan now?”  
   
“Travis said my dad was going to stop at the roadhouse and he’d probably told them more. So that’s where we’re headed.”  
   
“Roadhouse?” Jake repeated. Logan said the word like it meant something, but the only thing that came to mind for Jake was the Patrick Swayze movie and he didn’t think Logan would be too pleased with him if he said as much.  
   
“You don’t even know about the roadhouses?” Logan asked, giving Jake a look of disbelief.  
   
“What, now there’s more than one?” Logan rolled his eyes. His fingers drummed on the wheel and he frowned thoughtfully at the road ahead. Jake got the impression that he was exasperatedly trying to find a way to explain something he thought should be common knowledge, and couldn’t help but feel a little insulted.  
   
“’Roadhouse’ is code for hunters,” Logan said after a moment. “If you find a bar or restaurant or something with ‘roadhouse’ in its name, nine times out of ten the owner is someone who knows about hunters and what they do. They might be a hunter or retired hunter themselves, they might stock weapons to sell to hunters, they might collect information from the area that could interest a hunter, and they might just give discounts for hunters on beer. Either way, roadhouses are places where hunters can go and know that at least one other person in the bar knows about what it is that they do. And for hunters, that’s usually a pretty good feeling. Better than feeling like you’re a freak in a room full of normal people.”  
   
Logan muttered the last bitterly and Jake looked over at him in surprise. Logan was silent for a minute, staring gravely out the windshield. Jake wondered if Logan would continue speaking, and if he ought to ask another question or simply let the conversation end there. Just as he was starting to think it was over, though, Logan spoke again.  
   
“The one I’m talking about,” Logan said, the vitriol gone from his tone, “the one I called  _the_  roadhouse, is owned by a guy named Harvey Ross. He’s a retired hunter, and a good friend of my dad’s. We stop there a lot, every time we’re going through the area, so to me if I hear ‘roadhouse,’ that’s the one I think of. That’s  _the_ roadhouse for me.”  
   
“So we’re headed to  _the_  roadhouse to meet this Harvey Ross?” Jake asked.  
   
“Yes. Ross’ Roadhouse –that’s its full name- is in Charlotte Hills, Illinois, just outside of the east half of St. Louis.”  
   
“Is St. Louis important?” Jake asked.  
   
“There are a lot of highways that come together around St. Louis,” Logan explained. “From there you can go in any direction, and get to any part of the country. So it’s a good central location with a lot of traffic. Plenty of hunters pass through there when they’re traveling, so it’s a good spot to get business. It’s also good for us, because no matter which part of the west my dad was going to we can get a pretty direct road to it from St. Louis.”  
   
Jake nodded thoughtfully. “So how far away are we from Charlotte Hills?”  
   
“Right now?” Logan glanced at a green sign as they passed it. “About two more hours. That’s good; we might be able to keep driving after we figure out which way we need to go.” Jake groaned at the prospect of more time in the car.  
   
“Can’t we just stop there?”  
   
Logan grinned. “If you want to be a hunter, kid, you’re gonna have to get used to long days on the road. That’s most of what this life is: you spend at least three days driving for every one of hunting. And if you’re alone, you don’t have anyone to switch out with.” He looked at Jake, his smile gently mocking. “It’s not so glamorous now, is it?”  
   
Jake just groaned and slumped down in his seat, and Logan laughed.  
   
   
   
   
It was still light out when they pulled off the highway at the little town of Charlotte Hills and parked in the lot of a bar called Ross’ Roadhouse. Logan tossed Jake the keys as he climbed out and started towards the bar. Jake smiled and tucked them into his pocket before hurrying after Logan. He thought that Logan was in a pretty good mood; or at least, the best mood possible with his father missing. Certainly it was the best mood Jake had seen him in so far. He seemed to be smiling just a little, and there was a slight spring in his step as he made his way to the bar.  
   
Jake followed Logan to the door of the bar and stepped inside. He looked around eagerly, hoping to spot some tangible indication that this bar catered to hunters. To Jake’s disappointment, it wasn’t very different from the bar they’d stopped at the previous night: dim, with the faint smell of smoke coming from the walls, a pool table and dart board in one corner, and a deer’s head mounted on the wall. There were a few people at the bar, but Jake thought it was probably too early for a big crowd. Logan went up to an empty part of the counter and slid onto a barstool, and Jake came over to sit next to him. He was wondering if he could talk Logan into a game of pool before they left, one that neither of them would hold back on.  
   
The man at the bar turned around, and Jake’s jaw fell open when he recognized him. “Mr. Ross!” he said in surprise, and Logan glared at him for the outburst.  
   
“Jake!” Ross greeted, seeming equally surprised. “What’re you doing here, boy? Weren’t you still going to Blackwood Creek? Nothing’s happened there, has it? Is Megan okay?”  
   
“Megan’s fine, sir,” Jake assured her worried father. He’d met the man a few times when he came to pick Megan up from camp, though like Jake the little girl took a series of trains and buses on her own in order to get there.  
   
So Harvey Ross, owner of the hunters’ bar Ross’ Roadhouse, was Megan’s father. Jake didn’t know why he hadn’t made the connection earlier; he knew that Megan Ross’ father was a retired hunter who owned a bar, and Logan had told him that a retired hunter ran Ross’ Roadhouse. Perhaps it was because Logan had called the man by his first name, which Jake had never known.  
   
“And Logan!” Ross said, noticing the other teen for the first time. “What’re you boys doing here?”  
   
“My dad,” Logan said quickly, before Jake could start to explain. “He left me behind at Blackwood Creek to go on his latest hunt, and I haven’t been able to get a hold of him for four days. I need to find out where he was headed.” Ross frowned thoughtfully.  
   
“And Vince Barrett just let the two of you leave, did he?”  
   
Logan’s expression became guarded. “Not exactly,” he said tersely, and offered no further explanation. Ross rubbed the stubble on his chin, seeming to think about what he ought to do. Finally he sighed and nodded.  
   
“Luke was in here morning of the fifth, for a few hours. He wanted to know if I’d heard anything about some murders out in Montana. I told him I hadn’t; too far away. He borrowed Holly’s laptop to do some research and then he got back on the road.”  
   
“Montana?” Logan repeated. He seemed to be trying to restrain his eagerness, but his tone betrayed him. “Where in Montana? Do you know what he was hunting?”  
   
“Western part, was all he told me. And I don’t know what he was going after. Maybe you can ask Holly; I think he asked her to help him with his research. She’s home for a few days and she went to the firing range in town. She’ll be back soon, before business picks up. Can I get you boys anything to eat? On the house, of course.”  
   
“Thanks, that’d be great. Could we have a couple burgers and sodas? I need to watch this one; he keeps trying to sneak alcohol.” Logan glared at Jake as he said it and Jake glared back, offended. Ross just laughed.  
   
“Well, most boys his age do,” Ross said, sounding amused by Logan’s disapproval. “They aren’t as serious about staying sharp as you are, Logan. But then, most boys don’t live as dangerously as you do.” He chuckled and disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to get their food.  
   
Logan sighed and turned around on his barstool, leaning back against the counter and resting his elbows on it. “So,” he said thoughtfully, “that little girl Megan is Ross’ daughter? No wonder; she seems pretty sharp, just like Holly.”  
   
“You hadn’t met her before?” Jake asked, and Logan shook his head.  
   
“I knew Ross had another daughter, but we never met.”  
   
“Holly is Megan’s older sister, right?” Jake asked curiously. He’d heard a little about her from Megan, but not much, and he’d never met her.  
   
“Yeah,” Logan said with a nod. “She must be maybe ten years older than Megan, though; she’s two years older than me. She’s a hunter; been traveling on her own most of these past two years, comes home for a few days every now and then.”  
   
“You know her well?” Jake asked. Logan shrugged.  
   
“I guess you could say that. There are only so many hunters out there, and only so many with kids. I haven’t met many people my age who know what my life has been like; Holly’s one of the few. So yeah, I guess we’re close.”  
   
Jake nodded thoughtfully. He’d never actually given much thought to what kids like Logan or Rae might experience, spending their lives traveling with their parents. He’d always been so jealous of them for having an exciting life so close to the hunt –in Logan’s case, even taking part in it- that he’d never considered how few friends they must have, never staying in one place for very long. This Holly, Jake suspected, must be to Logan something like what he was to Rae: a friend he saw maybe once a year but who could understand his circumstances to some extent, and whom he could be assured of seeing again sometime in the future. In other words, the only real friend available to him and the closest by default.  
   
Jake had friends at his mother’s home in Indianapolis, friends from school and from the neighborhood. He was very close to some of the boys on his soccer team, and there were a few who would probably refer to him as their best friend. All the same, Jake had never had any second thoughts about leaving home for the life of a traveling hunter and never seeing them again. He had always considered the people he knew from camp, Rae, Jeremy, and some others a few years older than him who had already left, to be his only true friends. He’d never considered the civilians he knew to be ‘real’ friends because they didn’t have his knowledge of the supernatural, which had become a huge part of his life. Maybe he had been taking for granted something Logan, at least, put a high value on.  
   
   
   
   
After they finished their food and drinks –soda for them both, of course- Jake managed to talk Logan into a game of pool. He let Logan break, and watched in awe as Logan got in a stripe while breaking, two stripes with his second shot, and then just kept going, not missing a single stripe, until all seven were down and he was taking aim at the eight ball. This, too, he hit perfectly into the pocket he’d called. Jake had lost without ever getting to hit the cue ball.  
   
Jake laughed. There was nothing else to do. Like he’d suspected, Logan was a superior pool player. “Alright,” Jake sighed. “Let’s play again. This time I’ll break.”  
   
“You think you can get all of them in without missing?” Logan asked, a little smile playing on his lips. The second half of the sentence, “because if you don’t, I’ll sink all of mine without giving you a second chance,” remained unspoken but clearly implied.  
   
“Maybe,” Jake said, but he doubted it. He wasn’t that good. He wasn’t as good as Logan. Jake broke and got in a solid. At the top of his game and giving it his all, he got five solids in before missing, and then Logan took all of the stripes and the eight, as Jake had known he would.  
   
“Why didn’t you play pool with us at camp?” Jake asked, taking aim at one of his last solids even though the game was over. “Or when we were in town after going to the lake?” Logan shrugged.  
   
“I don’t like to show off,” he said. Jake looked at him and raised an eyebrow, and Logan just smiled and shrugged again.  
   
The bar was starting to get busy now so the two of them backed off to let other customers use the pool table. As they were going back to the bar, a young woman came up to them. Jake assumed she must be Holly Ross; she looked about the right age, maybe twenty, and had Megan’s brown hair and eyes. She was tall, not much shorter than Jake, and carried herself with a gracefulness that implied power.  
   
She was strikingly beautiful, and Jake couldn’t help but remember Logan’s comment the previous night about finding Jake a pretty girl to flirt with so he would remember that he liked girls, not boys. This girl, or woman, really, definitely qualified as pretty: a perfect hourglass figure, large at the top and bottom and slender in the middle, with a face like that of a runway model and long, silky-looking dark hair. The pistol on her hip and knife strapped to her bicep, which no doubt kept other men away, only raised Jake’s estimation of her: this woman could handle herself.  
   
But in spite of all that, Jake still wasn’t certain if he was attracted to her. He didn’t know if he himself thought she was beautiful, or if he simply recognized that she was what other men would consider beautiful. It brought all of the doubt from the previous night flooding back, and Jake was at a loss as to what he should say or do around her.  
   
The woman, however, ignored Jake altogether, her focus centered on his traveling partner. “Logan,” she greeted him. Her eyes swept up and down Logan’s body admiringly, and Jake felt a stab of jealousy. He wasn’t sure whom he was jealous of, though: her for looking at Logan like she was, or Logan for being the center of her attention.  
   
“Holly,” Logan said in return, giving her the same once-over. His lips twisted in a smile that was almost a smirk. “You’re looking good.”  
   
“I could say the same about you,” she replied. Jake glanced between them, the obvious sexual tension making him feel incredibly awkward. Clearly Logan hadn’t been giving the whole story when he’d said they were close; it was obvious that there had been something between them at some point, and maybe still was.  
   
“Not so good,” Logan replied, his expression and tone turning serious. “I’m looking for my dad. Yours said you might know something about where he was headed and what he’s after.”  
   
“Oh,” Holly murmured, her smile fading. “He had some newspaper clippings about some strange deaths that he wanted my help looking into.” She glanced around almost suspiciously, then said in a softer tone, “Here, let’s go to the back; we can talk there without being overheard.” She led the way through a door to one side of the bar, into what looked like a living room. It seemed that the family lived in the back of the bar, behind the kitchen.  
   
“The newspaper articles were from a town called Blue Ridge in western Montana,” Holly explained as she sank onto the couch. Logan and Jake followed her lead and sat, Logan next to her and Jake separately in a recliner. “Different articles. One was from a cattle mutilation. Its throat had been torn out, but there was no blood around. There were seven from missing persons and five from murders, with dates ranging from last month to about three years ago. I asked him if he really thought one monster could be responsible for so many different things, and he said no: he thought it was more than one.”  
   
“More than one?” Logan echoed thoughtfully. “Not many things live in groups. What did he think they were?” Holly shook her head.  
   
“You won’t believe me,” she said. “I hardly believed him. Luke thought…” She trailed off and glanced away, then looked up and met Logan’s eyes, her expression grave. “Luke said he thought it was vampires.”  
   
“Vampires?” Jake asked incredulously. “There’s no such thing, right? I mean, they’re just a legend, a stupid media fad lately. They don’t exist, do they?” He looked at Logan, expecting the other teen to tell him this was some kind of joke, but Logan just frowned contemplatively.  
   
“Vampire exist,” Logan said slowly. “Or at least, they did at one point.” He turned back to Holly. “But I thought Elkins and the Winchesters wiped out the last of them.”  
   
“That’s what most people believe nowadays,” Holly confirmed with a nod. “But it seemed like Luke was already pretty sure of what he’d found; he just wanted a little more information. Every article I managed to find said that the five bodies of the murder victims had been drained of blood. Luke said he thought the seven missings had been killed but never found. All twelve disappeared from the same stretch of road. Their cars were found empty with no sign of a struggle, and the five bodies that were recovered were found in the woods on the opposite side of the town. They all had strange bite marks on them that some people said might be from a dog, although others were pretty sure they weren’t.”  
   
Holly shrugged. “It fits the bill,” she admitted. “I mean, if it were some psycho trying to make it look like a vampire killing, they’d put two puncture marks, like long canine teeth. But real vampires have all regular teeth and then whole rows on the top and bottom of retractable fangs. Some people might call that a dog, if they didn’t know what they were dealing with. And whatever it is, if it can take people from their cars without a struggle and it dumps their bodies in a separate location it must be fairly intelligent. Vampires used to be people, so they’re not dumb animals.”  
   
“Vampires,” Jake said skeptically. “What, do we need to stock up on garlic and make some holy water?” Both Holly and Logan shot him withering looks, and he closed his mouth and looked away. Logan was the first to take pity on Jake and explain it to him.  
   
“Vampires can’t be killed by that type of thing. Pretty much everything you’ve heard about them from books and movies is wrong: no coffin, no cape, no east European accent. They definitely don’t sparkle. Garlic, holy water, and stakes don’t do any good. Sunlight it only a minor annoyance to them at best; basically they just get sunburned easily. They don’t like to go out in the sun, but it’s not like you can bust open the roof of whatever building they hide in during the day and expect them to die. They’d live, and they’d still come out after you, even in the sun.”  
   
“The only way to kill a vampire,” Holly finished for Logan, “is by cutting off its head.”  
   
Jake looked between them curiously. Logan’s expression was serious; Jake could see in his eyes that he was committed to finding and trying to save his father, no matter how dangerous it proved to be. Holly’s expression was one of disapproval and worry; no doubt she thought Logan was being foolish to go after vampires, even to save his father. “So what does the mean for us?” Jake asked.  
   
Logan sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. “It means that most of our weapons and all of the ammo we just bought are useless,” Logan said. “What we need are machetes, and between us there’s only one.” He glanced over at Holly. “Do you think your dad might sell me a machete?” Holly frowned.  
   
“It’s stupid to go after vampires,” she said. Her disapproval of the entire enterprise was clear in her tone, as was the concern she was trying to mask. “The books and movies  _aren’t_  wrong about them being fast and powerful. And you have to get pretty damn close to be able to cut off their heads. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to get so close to something that could kill me with a single blow.”  
   
Logan nodded in acknowledgment, but gave no answer to her statement. He sat wordlessly staring at the floor and rolling his lower lip between his teeth, and Jake knew he must have been thinking how he could fight multiple creatures that were inhumanely strong and could only be killed at close range. At length Logan spoke again.  
   
“That might be the only way to kill them,” Logan said slowly. “But it isn’t the only way to fight them.”  
   
“What do you mean?” Jake asked. Logan ignored him and instead turned to Holly.  
   
“Where’s the nearest funeral home?” Logan asked her, and a slow grin spread across Holly’s face as she realized what Logan was planning. Jake, much to his annoyance, had no idea what Logan had planned, and no one was bothering to explain it to him.


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you at least going to tell me why we’re here?” Jake asked as Logan stopped the car about half a block from the funeral home, hopefully well out of the way of any security cameras. It was long after dark and no lights shone from inside the building.  
   
“You didn’t have to come,” Logan replied tensely. He leaned out the car window, looking around for security guards or dogs, Jake supposed.  
   
“Like I was gonna let you leave me behind!” Jake fumed. The tension between them had returned and even increased since they’d met up with Holly. The two experienced hunters had looked over a map of the town and the local paper’s obituaries together, discussing their plans in hushed tones and leaving Jake out of their discussion. By insisting on accompanying Logan, he was trying to reassert his position as one of the primary members of this hunt. Logan, on the other hand, seemed to be viewing him as more of a liability than ever.  
   
“Fine!” Logan snapped. “If I tell you, will you shut up and stay in the car?” Jake considered it for a moment.  
   
“Maybe,” he said curtly, although he had no intention of doing it. Logan gave a heavy sigh that came out almost as a growl.  
   
“Alright. Listen, a vampire can only be killed by cutting off its head, but it can still be poisoned.”  
   
“Wouldn’t poison kill it?” Jake wondered.  
   
“No, it’s not a deadly poison,” Logan explained. “It’ll just make it sick for a little while. Weak, unable to move or talk much.”  
   
“So what poisons them?” Jake asked.  
   
“I was getting to that!” Logan snarled before Jake even finished the sentence. He sighed, forcing himself to calm down. “What poisons vampires,” he continued more calmly, “is dead man’s blood. That’s why we’re here. We need to find a fresh corpse, one that hasn’t been embalmed yet and still had blood left in its veins.”  
   
“Does it have to be a man’s blood?” Jake wondered. “Wouldn’t a dead  _woman_ ’s blood work too?” Logan looked like he was going to snap some quick denial, but he paused, his expression turning thoughtful.  
   
“I guess it would,” he said. “I think ‘dead man’s blood’ is probably just the most commonly used name. Any type of dead person’s blood should still work.”  
   
“So how are we going to do this?” Jake asked. “I mean, how do you get the blood? Use the tools already there in the funeral home?”  
   
“I’ve got this.” Logan pulled a syringe from his pocket. “I think it should be enough.” They stared down at the instrument in silence, both of them wondering just how much blood was needed to poison a vampire, and how many vampires there might be.  
   
“Alright,” Logan sighed. “I’m going in.” He tossed the keys into Jake’s lap and got out of the car. Jake stuck the keys in his pocket and got out as well. “You’re not coming!” Logan objected.  
   
“Yes, I am!”  
   
“You said you wouldn’t if I told you!”  
   
“I said maybe!” Jake replied, crossing his arms. “Maybe I wouldn’t. But I will.” Jake knew he sounded childish, but he didn’t care. He was going, and there was nothing else he would accept. The two of them glared at one another for a moment, then Logan threw up his arms.  
   
“Fine! Come, but don’t get in my way!” Logan turned and stalked towards the funeral home, and Jake hurried after, grinning.  
   
They stopped just outside the grounds, hiding behind a large oak tree. Logan peeked around the edge to scope out the funeral home. “No cameras,” he whispered. “No guards.” They both hurried across the parking lot to a side door, and Logan handed Jake a flashlight. “Hold this so I can see the lock,” he whispered. Jake took it and held it close to the knob so that the beam of light was small and hopefully not noticeable. He looked out at the street as Logan quickly picked the lock.  
   
“Car,” Jake whispered as one approached, and Logan redoubled his efforts. The lock clicked open and the two of them slipped inside just before the car passed on the street outside. Jake followed Logan as the other boy went down the hallway, looking through the windows in each door. He stopped at one door and beckoned Jake over.  
   
“I think this is where they keep the bodies,” Logan whispered. Jake made a face.  
   
“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” Jake muttered. “I mean, this isn’t like digging up a body that’s been in the ground for years and is nothing but bones. This is a person that just a few days ago, maybe, was breathing and walking around!”  
   
“Don’t think like that,” Logan hissed back as he went to work on the lock. “You’re gonna psych yourself out.”  
   
Jake held the flashlight and looked around nervously as Logan worked. He jumped and gasped when the lock clicked open, and he knew Logan must have been glaring at him for it even though he couldn’t see the other boy’s face in the darkness. Logan carefully pushed the door open and they peered inside.  
   
The room reminded Jake of the science lab at his high school, with counters and cabinets around the edges and tables in the middle. Logan went over to a wall that had a dozen metal doors on it, like safety deposit boxes in a bank. Jake joined him reluctantly. Logan put one hand on the lever of a door and the two of them exchanged a glance. Then Logan turned the handle and pulled the door open.  
   
Jake gagged and put a hand to his mouth as the scent of decay floated from the opening. Logan rolled his eyes, but Jake could see him choke when he pulled the body out and the scent grew stronger. On the slab was a man maybe in his late fifties, still fully clothed and clearly not embalmed yet. Jake took a step back while Logan wordlessly pulled the syringe from his pocket and plunged the tip into the inside of the man’s elbow. He drew the plunger back and a dark red, almost brown liquid slowly filled the syringe. As soon as it was full, Logan quickly pulled the needle out, pushed the body back into its space, and slammed the door. The two of them hurried to the door of the room and breathed deeply of the relatively fresh air.  
   
“Alright,” Logan murmured somewhat shakily. “We’ve got it; now let’s go.” Jake nodded eagerly. He was more than ready to leave this place.  
   
The two of them made their way quickly but silently back to the side door they had entered from. They knew there was still a chance of being caught; they couldn’t relax until they were back at Ross’ Roadhouse. Jake put his hand on the door handle to open it, but it wouldn’t turn when he pressed down. He and Logan glanced at one another. “Did it lock automatically?” Jake asked in a whisper.  
   
“I don’t think so,” Logan murmured uneasily, his eyes darting around. A chill ran down Jake’s spine and his heartbeat and breathing quickened.  
   
“Did it get cold?” he asked nervously. Logan didn’t answer, but turned to look back at the hallway they had come from.  
   
“Shit,” he hissed.  
   
“What, what is it?” Jake asked fearfully, although he already knew the answer. Looking back down the hall he could see a figure approaching, its movements slow and menacing. As it neared Jake saw it was a woman, with hair and clothes disheveled and pale, bloodless skin. At the low collar of her shirt Jake could see the beginnings of a ragged Y-incision. She flickered in and out of sight, like the light of a faulty lamp.  
   
“And I didn’t even bring a shotgun,” Logan muttered.  
   
“Logan?” Jake said, his voice high and nervous. He knew how to fight ghosts, he did, but all the knowledge in the world didn’t do him any good unless he had a weapon. Jake glanced at Logan, then back at the ghost. It knew it had them trapped and was approaching slowly, but it was still getting closer. “What do we do?”  
   
“You go back to the car and get a shotgun, and the salt and gasoline from the trunk.” Logan’s voice was strangely calm and he gazed steadily back at the ghost even while speaking to Jake.  
   
“The door’s locked!”  
   
“Break it down,” Logan said. “I’ll distract her.” He pulled a knife from his belt and gave Jake a grim smile. Jake guessed –hoped- that the knife was made of iron, or else what Logan was suggesting was tantamount to suicide.  
   
With no further discussion, Logan took a step away from Jake and towards the woman’s ghost. Jake watched in awe as Logan approached it calmly. He held the knife in front of his body defensively and bent his knees in a fighter’s crouch, ready to strike at the ghost no matter the angle it came from.  
   
The ghost paused and its head tilted at an impossible angle, as though it were contemplating him. Then suddenly it disappeared and in the blink of an eye rematerialized before Logan and struck out at him with a pale hand. Logan slashed at it with the knife and it disappeared, only to reappear behind him a fraction of a second later. Logan whirled, hacking at it again. “Go!” he yelled to Jake.  
   
Jake tore his eyes from the fight and turned to the door. He tried to kick it, like he’d seen in movies and cop shows, but was thrown off balance and nearly fell. The door was unharmed. He wobbled but righted himself, glaring at the door. Jake put his shoulder down and rammed it like a football player, and heard the wood splinter and his shoulder pop. It hurt, but he didn’t think it was dislocated. He switched to the other shoulder and tried again. This time Jake managed to put a large crack down the middle of the door. Both shoulders hurt. He kicked at the door and made a hole in the middle, then kicked it again to widen it. The moment he thought he could squeeze through it he did, broken boards scratching at his scalp and arms.  
   
Jake ran down the street to where the car was parked, subtlety forgotten now, and fumbled with the keys to open the trunk. He kept glancing back at the funeral home, expecting at any moment to hear Logan scream in pain. He pulled the bags and tire out and dumped them on the ground, then wrenched open the tire compartment. Jake grabbed a shotgun in trembling fingers, tested it and found it was already loaded. He stuffed the keys in his pocket and held the gun in the crook of one arm, the salt in one hand and the gasoline in the other. He couldn’t find a lighter, and could only hope that Logan had one with him.  
   
Jake raced back to the funeral home, nearly dropping the gun as he went. His heart was beating so quickly he thought it might explode, and a million fears raced through his mind. He was scared for Logan, scared for himself, scared he’d drop the shotgun and it would go off, scared Logan wouldn’t have a lighter and the gasoline would be useless, and scared that the police would come by soon and find the car with its trunk full of weapons still open.  
   
Jake scrambled back through the hole in the door, very narrowly avoiding dropping the gun. The hallway was empty, and the only noise was that of his panting breath and pounding heart. Jake shifted the items in his arms, getting the salt in his left elbow and gasoline in his left hand, so that his right was free to hold the shotgun. “Logan?” he called anxiously.  
   
There was no answer.  
   
Jake gulped and started down the hall, glancing into each room. He was expecting the ghost to rush him any second and his hand on the shotgun trigger was trembling. He made his way to the room where he and Logan had found the body and was just about to look in when a noise made him jump. If his fingers hadn’t been shaking so badly at that moment, he might have squeezed the trigger and shot himself in the foot.  
   
Jake held his breath and listened. He could hear the noise again, soft gasps and grunts of pain. Human. Logan. A cold feeling ran through him and without thinking Jake threw open the door. The ghost had Logan pinned on a table, one of its hands holding a scalpel to his chest and the other wrapped around his throat. Logan was clawing at the ghostly hand around his neck, struggling to breathe, and failing. Jake threw up the shotgun and fired.  
   
The ghost disappeared in a cloud of smoke and salt and Logan gasped loudly, dragging air back into his lungs. He coughed and struggled to sit upright, his breathing coming in ragged pants. Jake rushed to his side. “Are you okay?”  
   
Logan nodded wordlessly, one hand on his throat, and pointed to his knife lying a few feet away on the ground. Jake dumped the things he was carrying on the table next to Logan and ran to get the knife. He snatched it up, taking a second to appreciate the fact that it truly was made of iron, and brought it back to Logan. Gripping the blade gingerly in his hand, he held it out handle-first for Logan to grab. Logan reached out to take it from him.  
   
The second Logan’s hand closed over the knife handle there was a squeaking noise on Jake’s left, and he barely had time to look up and see a second wheeled table coming towards him before pain exploded in his side as it rammed into his body. The table kept going, slamming him against a large cabinet. The side of his head hit squarely on a door handle and Jake’s vision when black.  
   
His entire body felt cold and numb, and there was a ringing in his ears. He heard, as though from far away, the sound of a gun go off and then Logan was at his side, pushing the table back, asking if he was alright. Without the table pinning him to the cabinet, Jake’s knees buckled and he slumped to the ground with a groan. “Shit,” he heard Logan swear.  
   
“Jake, Jake,” Logan hissed, shaking his shoulder as Jake struggled to blink the shadows from his vision. The ringing in his ears was fading and the pain was back full force, pounding in his head, his ribs, and oddly enough, his hand. Ignoring Logan’s frantic questions, he lifted his hand to inspect it and saw that he’d been cut when Logan’s knife was wrenched from his hand as the table hit him.  
   
“Can you walk?” Logan asked, and Jake shook his head. That proved to be a very bad idea, and his head sagged again as nausea rolled in his stomach.  
   
“Can you shoot?” Logan asked.  
   
Jake managed to string the words together in his mind and concentrated on getting his jaw and tongue to cooperate. “I think so.”  
   
“Good.” Logan shoved the shotgun into his hands. “Shoot it if it comes near you. I’m gonna salt this bitch.”  
   
Jake watched as Logan stood and turned away from him. He wanted to object, to tell Logan that it was too dangerous after what had happened the last time he’d gone after the ghost with just his knife, but before he could make his mouth do what his brain was ordering, Logan was gone.  
   
Jake groaned and blinked as black spots filled his vision again, then faded away. His entire body ached, it seemed, and he could feel the pain pulsing along with his heartbeat. The sick feeling in his stomach was still there, fading in and out like the black spots in his eyes, and Jake wondered if he was going to throw up.  
   
Something flickered at the edge of his vision and Jake struggled to focus on it. Was it the ghost, or simply another mirage from the blow to his head? As Jake blinked at it, the thing wavered in and out of focus. It seemed to grow nearer and materialize into a vaguely human shape. The ghost.  
   
With fumbling fingers, Jake lifted the shotgun. He could see the tip of the gun shaking violently as his hands and arms trembled. He pulled the trigger just as the ghost darted forward close enough to touch, and it disappeared. Salt rained down over Jake’s feet.  
   
The next thing Jake knew, Logan was hauling him to his feet and pain was lancing through his side, sharp and hot. The nausea returned, reaching unbearable extremes. He turned away from Logan and threw up on the floor. Jake coughed and sputtered, trying to clear his mouth and throat. Logan pounded his back, which only made his ribs hurt more. “C’mon, c’mon, we gotta get out of here!” Logan hissed.  
   
Jake struggled to lift his head and take some of his weight on his own feet. That lessened the pain in his side, though he didn’t think he could stand without Logan to lean against. Logan half-dragged Jake down the hall towards the side door, cursing softly with every step. His hand that wasn’t around Jake’s shoulders still held the jug of gasoline, and he poured the last of it over the floor as they went.  
   
When they reached the door and stepped out, Logan turned back to the funeral home. They could see the ghost reappear in the hallway and start towards them. Logan shifted Jake’s arm from around his shoulders and Jake stepped away from him to lean heavily against the doorframe. He started to lift the shotgun as Logan knelt down. He saw from the corner of his eye Logan flick a lighter and touch the flame to the end of the gasoline trail he’d made, and then a river of fire flared up down the length of the hallway. The ghost was still there, however; the fire must not have reached its body yet. Jake pulled the trigger and watched with a sense of grim satisfaction as the ghost disappeared once more.  
   
Logan grabbed Jake’s arm and pulled it around his shoulders again, and the two of them hurried to the car. Logan dropped Jake into the passenger seat and quickly stowed all of their gear in the trunk. Jake held out the keys with shaking fingers as the other teen climbed into the car. “Do you need a hospital?” Logan asked tensely.  
   
Jake looked out the window at the funeral home, its windows now filled with flames. He knew that hospitals were dangerous places for hunters; too many questions, too great a risk of running into law enforcement. “No,” he said, even though he wanted to say yes. He had no idea how bad his injuries were, if he had internal bleeding or not. Logan looked at him for a moment as if trying to see if Jake was lying. He was biting his lip, and his eyebrows were drawn together in concern.  
   
“You gonna sit here until the fire truck arrives?” Jake asked. Logan smiled weakly and started the car.  
   
   
   
   
The next few hours were mostly a blur for Jake. Logan brought him back to Ross’ Roadhouse and between the three of them Ross, Holly, and Logan carried him to the spare bedroom on the second story. His clothes were stripped off and his injuries were assessed. Broken ribs, Ross determined, with a nasty gash where the edge of the table had struck him, but no organ damage. It was his head they were worried about, though; they thought he might have a concussion, and that would mean he couldn’t fall asleep for the next couple hours.  
   
Jake was given a couple of aspirin, the most Ross was willing to give him until they could guess more about his head trauma, and his hand and ribs were bandaged. The leftover bandages, gauze, tape, and rubbing alcohol lay on the bedside table, along with the precious syringe of dead man’s blood that Logan and Jake had nearly gotten killed for. Logan, who had not tended to any of his own injuries, insisted on sitting up with Jake to make sure he didn’t fall asleep with his concussion. He told Ross and Holly to go to bed, assuring them that he would call them if anything about Jake’s condition changed.  
   
Ross was the first to go, still having things to take care of with the close-up of the bar. Holly stayed for a few minutes after, just sitting next to Logan and holding his hand. Jake watched the two of them from lidded eyes. Logan’s expression was serious and pensive, and his eyes were trained on the bed by Jake’s feet. Holly was focused solely on Logan and her expression was sympathetic. Jake could see the beginnings of a huge bruise around Logan’s neck, and his shirt was torn and his chest slightly bloodied where the ghost had managed to nick him with the scalpel.  
   
After a long moment of silence, Holly gave Logan’s hand a squeeze and kissed his temple, then stood and left, whispering, “Goodnight,” on her way out. Logan didn’t respond. He remained in the same position, staring at the quilt folded on the end of the bed, for what felt like several minutes. Then he shook himself as though waking from a dream, and turned to Jake.  
   
“How you feeling?” Logan whispered, as if he thought it might hurt Jake’s head if he spoke too loudly.  
   
“Wish I could have something more than aspirin,” Jake mumbled. His speech was still slurred a bit and he struggled to speak the next part more clearly. “Wish I could sleep, too.”  
   
“I know,” Logan said, his lips quirked in a sardonic smile. “Concussions suck. I’ve had my fair share.”  
   
Jake eyed Logan for a moment, wondering what the other teen had been thinking while he stared at the bed. “Do you think we got it?” Jake asked. Logan looked up at him thoughtfully and shrugged.  
   
“I don’t know. I threw salt in all of the cabinets with bodies in them, and in every open casket I found. But there were a bunch of closed coffins I couldn’t get into and I wasn’t sure if they had bodies in them or not. I threw salt on top of them, but I don’t know if it would have done any good.” He fell silent for a minute, thinking it over.  
   
“Normally it takes years for a spirit to become a ghost like that,” Logan said. “One that can move things and hurt people. Most of the bodies in a funeral home should be fresh; it’s probably not more than a week between the time a person dies and the time they’re buried. I don’t know where that ghost came from. Maybe somebody lost a part of an old body while they were embalming it, or something.”  
   
“The way she was trying to cut you, it seemed like she might have been an embalmer herself,” Jake said. Logan nodded thoughtfully.  
   
“That would make sense for her being there, but I don’t think she could be haunting it if her body was buried someplace far away. Maybe it was a family funeral home, and they kept a lock of hair from a relative who owned it before or something.”  
   
“Do you think we got her, though?”  
   
“I don’t know. If the rest of her was someplace else, then no, unless she was cremated.” Logan sighed. “There’s really no way of knowing. Maybe tomorrow I can research the funeral home, find out how any previous owners died and what happened to them.”  
   
Jake nodded in agreement with the plan. He wanted to tell Logan not to go after the rest of the body, if there was more, without someone else as backup while Jake was unable to go, but he didn’t think Logan would listen to him. Jake was worried for him. If the ghost was still around and he went after it by himself, he might not be able to make it out. ‘Even with me there, it nearly killed him the first time,’ Jake thought as he looked at the bruise on Logan’s neck and the cut on his chest.  
   
But Jake didn’t think Logan would listen to any words of caution, so he kept them to himself. Instead he simply said, “Your chest is bleeding.”  
   
Logan looked down almost amazedly, pulling at his shirt to get a look. “Oh yeah,” he murmured. “I guess she did cut me.” Logan slipped off the shirt and picked up the medical supplies that had been left out from their use on Jake. He swabbed the cut with alcohol and taped gauze over it, but didn’t bother to put the shirt back on. Jake’s eyes roved over the expanse of skin, taking in the toned muscles and rough scars. He wondered if the cut would leave another scar to add to Logan’s collection of battle wounds. He doubted it, though; it had been too clean and shallow.  
   
“I guess you know how I got these ones,” Jake said, waving a hand at his side. Logan looked confused for a moment, then remembered their conversation the previous night and how he had said that Jake needed to tell him the story of a scar in return. He nodded.  
   
“I guess so,” Logan murmured, and fell silent once more. Jake assumed the conversation had come to an end. Then, to his surprise, Logan spoke again.  
   
“You saved my life back there,” Logan whispered, not looking at Jake. Jake cocked his head to the side, thinking. He looked at the red-tinged skin around Logan’s neck that tomorrow he knew would be a black and purple bruise, and remembered how the ghost had held Logan pinned to the table, disarmed and powerless. He shuddered at the thought. Logan was the better hunter, superior in every way. The thought of him being powerless was terrifying to Jake.  
   
“I guess I did,” he murmured softly. The events of the night were still too fresh for him to feel proud of it, though. Or to feel anything but relief that they had both survived and apprehension for what would come next, if a thing that had nearly killed both of them was considered routine by many hunters.


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing Jake saw when he woke was Logan. The older boy had fallen asleep in his chair by Jake’s bed and was leaning dangerously to the side, almost ready to fall. Jake lifted a hand to rub his eyes, but a twinge of pain reminded him that his right hand was injured. He looked at the bandages over his palm, and saw that they were wrinkled from the movement. Then he lifted his left hand and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  
   
It had been midmorning before Ross deemed it safe for Jake to fall asleep. From the look of the sky outside the window, it was late afternoon or early evening now. Jake groaned and stretched his arms out in front of him, wincing when his shoulders and ribs complained. In the chair beside him, Logan moaned and shifted at the noise. He almost fell but managed to catch himself, his eyes flying open as he jolted himself awake.  
   
“Morning,” Jake said with a groggy smile. “Or I guess it’s evening now.”  
   
Logan groaned in answer, adjusting his position on the chair and stretching. He touched the bruise on his neck tenderly. It had turned black and purple, just as Jake had known it would. The shape of the ghost’s hand was distinctly visible in the dark bruising, the thumb under the right side of Logan’s jaw, the palm over the front of his throat, and the four fingers on the left side. The front and left sides of his neck were the worst: from his jaw to his collarbone, the skin was entirely black and purple with bruising. “Your neck looks awful,” Jake told him.  
   
“Yeah, well, let’s see how your side looks,” Logan grumbled, his voice thick from sleep. Jake pushed back the covers and looked down at the bandages. On his left, where the table had hit, he could see purple edges of bruising above and below the bandages. On his right side, the side that had been slammed against the cabinet, his shoulder and hip were bruised. “You don’t look so good either,” Logan observed. Jake grimaced and pulled the sheet back up.  
   
A sharp knock on the door made them both jump, and without waiting for an invitation Holly opened it and came in. “Oh, good,” she said. “I thought I heard voices up here. How’re you boys feeling?”  
   
“Sore,” Logan muttered. He stood up and stretched his arms above his head, and Jake saw that there were bruises along his upper back too, probably from being thrown onto the table. “You got anything stronger than aspirin around?”  
   
“We might have some better stuff,” Holly said thoughtfully. “I haven’t been around much lately, though, so I don’t know if it might have been used up.”  
   
“How’s about getting me some breakfast?” Jake asked. “Or lunch, or whatever meal you’re serving now? I’m starved!”  
   
“Aren’t you demanding! Didn’t you just eat before going to bed?” Holly asked.  
   
“Hey, nearly dying is hungry work!” Jake grinned at her, and Holly laughed.  
   
“You were never going to die!” Logan scoffed. “Now me,  _I_  almost died last night.” He said it like it was something to be proud of, and Jake laughed.  
   
“Yeah, and I saved your ass, didn’t I?” Logan’s grin faded into a little smile, but unlike most of the smiles Jake had seen on Logan’s face this one wasn’t wry or sad. It seemed kind, almost tender.  
   
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you did.”  
   
Pride flared in Jake’s chest at the admission, and he grinned. “Not some dumb kid playing at being a hunter anymore, am I?” Logan chuckled softly and shook his head.  
   
“Y’know, you really know how to ruin a moment,” Logan said, though there was no reproach in his voice. “Just like a stupid kid.”  
   
Holly’s soft laughter reminded them both of her presence, and they turned to look at her. “Alright, mighty hunter,” she said to Jake, gentle sarcasm in her tone. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up for you.” Holly gave Logan a smile and brushed her fingers over his shoulder as she turned to go. “Can I get you anything?” she asked him.  
   
“Whatever you bring for Jake is fine,” Logan said. Holly nodded and left the two of them alone.  
   
“So,” Jake sighed, “what’re we going to do now?”  
   
“Well, you certainly can’t travel in this condition, at least not for another twenty-four hours,” Logan asserted. “And I’m not really in good shape for traveling either. We’ll see how we’re feeling tomorrow, I guess, and then maybe we’ll set out again.” Logan grimaced as though the thought of staying in bed galled him. Jake covered a smile. He could see Logan being an incredibly bad patient, always pushing himself too far and delaying his recovery.  
   
“I don’t like wasting time, though,” Logan said, Jake’s smile fell at his grim tone. “Not when my dad might be…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head, unable to put his fears to words.  
   
“Yeah,” Jake murmured softly, feeling guilty for thinking Logan’s eagerness to get back on the road was for restlessness rather than worry. Despite that, he couldn’t help but notice that Logan hadn’t even mentioned the possibility of him leaving Jake behind, despite the fact that with his injuries even Jake would admit that he was now more of a liability than an asset. It seemed he had managed to prove himself to Logan, not only as a hunter in general but as a part of this hunt in particular. Logan wasn’t going to cut him out of it now; he knew that Jake had risked too much to not see it through.  
   
And, Jake realized with a start, this was the first time during their entire trip that he had left the car without the keys firmly in his own pocket. It had been within Logan’s power to leave him at the Roadhouse and go at any time, and he hadn’t. Jake looked at the older teen, studying his face. He had been vulnerable to Logan, and Logan had not let him down. In addition to Jake proving that Logan could trust him, Logan had also proven himself trustworthy. They had each tested the other and found him to be dependable, and now they could start to become closer friends. Jake smiled at the thought.  
   
Logan still appeared bogged down in thoughts of his father, his expression serious and closed off. Jake tried to help his mood by changing the subject. “So, where in Montana are we going again?”  
   
Logan looked up, his silent contemplation interrupted. “Blue Ridge,” he answered after a moment’s pause. He passed Jake the map he’d borrowed from Ross to look over the previous night. “It’s about a five-day drive, if we start early and stop late. Think you’ll be up to it by tomorrow?”  
   
“I dunno,” Jake admitted. “I guess I could if you’ll drive all day the first few. Maybe by the time we get there I’ll be feeling well enough to do some driving too.”  
   
“I can handle the driving,” Logan assured him. “I’ve done plenty of that. I wanna know if five days’ll be enough time for you to recover enough to help me with the vampires. Or will you need to rest more?”  
   
Jake grimaced as he thought about it. “I don’t know,” he said solemnly. “Last night was pretty rough; I don’t know if I’ll ever be up for a repeat of that.”  
   
“We went in without weapons,” Logan pointed out. “We’ll be ready when we face the vampires.”  
   
“How? You said yourself that the only way to kill them is by cutting off their heads. I don’t really want to get that close to something that can kill me. And you still haven’t told me what you’re planning on doing with the blood.” Jake looked to the nightstand where the syringe of blood had been when he had fallen asleep. It wasn’t there.  
   
He turned back to Logan, alarmed. “Where’s the blood?”  
   
Logan held up a little plastic bottle filled with a brown liquid. “Ross gave me this to put it in last night. Or this morning, whatever.” Logan swirled the bottle and watched the thick blood slosh slowly against its walls. “What we’re going to do,” he explained, “is dip crossbow bolts in it and fire those as the bastards. We should be able to take out a few from a distance that way. The rest will probably rush us, so we’ll dip our knives and machetes in it too. Hopefully it’ll work quickly enough to drop them as soon as we cut them. Then while they’re down we can cut off their heads without worrying about them attacking us.”  
   
“How many do you think there will be?” Jake asked.  
   
“I don’t know,” Logan sighed. “I’ve never hunted vampires before. People used to say that a guy called Elkins had hunted them into extinction. Then he was found dead, and word is that vampires did it and the Winchesters hunted and killed them. But it seems like that was the last of them. Other than that, I’ve never heard of them being hunted during my lifetime. But,” Logan said with a sigh, “they can hole up for years, centuries even, feeding on animals, so who knows how many might still be out there.”  
   
“The vampires?” Holly asked as she pushed open the door, a tray of food in her hands. On it were a pot of tomato soup, a plate of half sandwiches, a bowl of potato chips, and two cans of soda. Holly set the tray on the nightstand and began doling out food. “I still say it’s stupid to go after them,” she said as she removed two bowls from beneath the one holding the chips and began ladling soup into them. Jake stared at the bowl of red liquid that was thrust into his hands. Between the dead man’s blood and his own bleeding injuries, he didn’t really want to eat the blood-colored soup. On the other hand, from what he knew of hunters he figured that refusing it might be hazardous to his health.  
   
“If you’re so worried,” Logan said as he lifted his own bowl to his mouth, ignoring the proffered spoon, “why don’t you tag along and keep an eye on us?” Holly frowned and leaned against the side of the bed.  
   
“I was just planning on stopping here for the night,” she said. “I’ve got a hunt in Evansville, Indiana that I need to get to. Otherwise, I would go with you. Hunting things that go in packs, you need as many pairs of eyes and hands as you can get. I’d almost say ask my dad, except he’s too old and would probably get himself killed if he tried.” She rolled her eyes as she said the last, and then shook her head at Logan. “Just two people… I don’t think it’s smart. I don’t know  _what_  Luke was thinking going by himself.”  
   
Holly sighed and straightened up. “Well, all I really wanted to do was say goodbye to you before I left. If it hadn’t been for you going and getting hurt, and then asking me for food, I’d have been out of here at dawn today. I’ve wasted too much time already. I need to get back on my hunt. I’ll see you, Logan.” She gave him a carefully hug, trying not to press too hard on his bruised back and neck. The she turned to Jake.  
   
“See you, kid, if you manage to survive this first hunt. I don’t envy you; even experienced hunters wouldn’t want to go after these things, and definitely not people on their first time out.” Her expression was serious as she gazed at him, then her face broke into a smile. “But you’re off to a good start, aside from the injuries. You saved Logan’s life, which is saying something.” She gave Logan a look as she said it, and he rolled his eyes at her. “So I’m guessing I’ll see you again, or at least hear about you. Good luck.” She patted his foot through the covers, just about the only part of Jake’s body that could be touched without hurting. Then Holly nodded to both of them and turned and left.  
   
Jake stared at the door for a moment after she’d left, then he turned to Logan with a grin. “See? She thinks I’m doing pretty well.” Logan snorted.  
   
“Nah. She’s just being nice to you ‘cause she thinks you’re going to die soon.”  
   
“Hey!” Jake laughed. He picked up a pillow and threw it at Logan, who yelped as the pillow hit his soup bowl and sloshed it out over his chest. Logan looked down at the red liquid dripping down his skin and onto his pants, then glared up at Jake. There was a playful glint in his eyes, however, and he set his soup bowl aside and picked up the pillow again. Jake hurriedly put his bowl next to Logan’s before the pillow struck him on the arm. “Hey! Logan! Quit it, I’m unarmed!”  
   
Jake snatched up another pillow from the bed and swung it at Logan, both of them laughing and ignoring the pain in their half-healed injuries.  
   
   
   
   
The pillow fight lasted a short time before a blow from Logan hit Jake in the side of the head and made him see spots again. Logan checked the scabbed-over gash on Jake’s scalp and assured him he wasn’t bleeding again, and the two of them settled down to their meal. Logan drank Jake’s tomato soup for him, now that Holly wasn’t around to see him turn it down, and Jake ate the roast beef sandwiches, which Logan didn’t like, while Logan ate the grilled cheese ones. When they’d both finished eating, Logan took the tray and empty plates down to the bar’s kitchen to be washed.  
   
Logan returned with a bottle of ibuprofen and two glasses of water, and they both took some pills for the pain. “Are you sure your head doesn’t hurt too bad?” Logan asked as he set his glass down, his expression half way between sheepish and concerned.  
   
“It’s fine,” Jake assured him. “I was more worried about my stomach: when you hit me, I felt sick. But I’m fine now. Or, you know, as close to fine as I can be.” Jake motioned to his side, and Logan nodded sympathetically.  
   
“Do you want me to change the bandages on it?” Logan offered. Jake considered it for a moment, then nodded. Logan hauled out the medical supplies again, spreading them out on the bed beside Jake. He carefully removed the bandages from Jake’s side. The bloody gash where he’d been struck by the sharp edge of the table had been taped together with Band-Aids, not deemed deep enough for stitches, but the bandages that had been over it were still stained with blood. He had two broken ribs and a massive bruise over his left side. It was fortunate, Ross had said, that his arm had been clear of the table, or it would have been shattered by the impact.  
   
Logan wrapped the bandages tightly, which hurt the bruises but was good for the ribs, so Jake tried not to complain. When his side was bandaged, Logan turned his attention to Jake’s hand. This, too, had not been stitched. Logan turned Jake’s hand gently in his as he assessed the damage. “It’s shallow,” Logan said. “You’re lucky, I think. With hands, there are so many muscles and tendons just under the skin, and if they’re damaged you can lose the use of your fingers or even the entire hand. But I think it’s just a skin-deep cut. It’s a good thing you weren’t holding the knife more tightly.” Jake nodded wordlessly, even more disturbed by the knowledge that the events of the previous night could have very easily crippled his dominant hand.  
   
Logan decided that the cut was shallow enough to not warrant actual bandages, and he dabbed it gently with antibiotic ointment and taped a square of gauze on it. Jake watched in fascination as Logan worked. He had learned some field medicine at Blackwood Creek, but Logan’s movements, swift and sure, but gentle enough to not cause any undue pain, spoke of a great deal of experience treating wounds. Logan’s hands, Jake noted, were rough and calloused. His fingers were long and looked delicate, but Jake knew that they were strong and skilled in all of the tasks of a hunter. He had seen first-hand how well Logan could shoot, clean a gun, or handle a pool stick.  
   
When Logan finished with Jake’s hand, he put an ointment for bruises over Jake’s left side and his right hip and shoulder. Jake gulped and bit his lip to keep from giggling when Logan touched his side, which was very ticklish even with the bruising. When Logan was done he wiped the excess ointment on his pants and started to put everything away.  
   
Logan hadn’t put his shirt back on after taking it off the previous night to treat the cut on his chest, and Jake could clearly see the bruises on Logan’s upper back. “Do you want me to put some ointment on your neck or back?” Jake asked him almost shyly.  
   
Logan seemed to be thinking it over for a moment, then he nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said. Logan sat on the bed next to Jake and passed him the tube of ointment. Jake squeezed some of it onto his fingertips and gently dabbed it on Logan’s neck. He knew that the bruises must be very painful and he didn’t want to press too hard.  
   
“Turn,” Jake whispered when he had gotten all of the bruise that he could see from that angle. Logan turned around, pulling his legs onto the bed next to Jake’s, so that Jake could reach the right side of his neck. Jake finished with the bruise on Logan’s neck and the other teen turned away so Jake could get his back. There were light bruises on his shoulders and upper back, and Jake could see more on the top of his ass above the waistband of his jeans, but he wasn’t about to put any ointment there.  
   
As he worked, Jake took a moment to admire Logan’s body. He could clearly see the scars along Logan’s back now. There were three of them, one on his right shoulder, white and flat; one diagonal across his lower back, raised and flesh-colored; and one nearly straight up and down from the bottom of his left shoulder blade to the side of his spine midway down his back, red and ropey. Logan’s skin was tanned and Jake suspected that when he wasn’t around other people and had no reason to feel insecure about his scars Logan spent a lot of time with his shirt off. There was a light dusting of freckles over his shoulders and down his upper arms, visible on the skin that wasn’t bruised. Aside from the scars, the skin on Logan’s back was soft and smooth, and warm under Jake’s fingers. He found that he liked touching Logan, though he tried not to think too deeply into that.  
   
When he finished applying the ointment, Jake passed the tube back. Logan stood and picked up the shirt he’d discarded the previous night. He shrugged it on, and as Jake watched the skin of Logan’s stomach disappear beneath the fabric he found he was oddly disappointed.  
   
“I’m going to put this stuff away,” Logan announced as he collected the medical supplies. “Can I bring you anything?”  
   
Jake sighed as he considered the invitation. He was tempted to say “a TV” or “Holly’s laptop” but he knew both were probably impossible. He was getting bored lying in bed, but he knew better than to try moving around any more than was necessary. “Could you bring my duffle bag from the car?” Jake asked, and Logan nodded.  
   
A few minutes later Logan returned with the duffle and set it on the bed next to Jake. Jake glanced over at him, wondering if Logan intended to stay by his side all day. “You don’t need to babysit me, you know,” Jake said as he rummaged through his bag.  
   
“Well, I wanted to spend time with you,” Logan said in an injured tone. “But if I’m not wanted, I’ll just leave.”  
   
“You can stay,” Jake said quickly. “I don’t mind you being here. I just meant, if you don’t want to stay with me, I’ll be alright on my own.”  
   
“I want to stay,” Logan insisted, and Jake nodded in response. He turned away from Logan and slowly pulled a leather-bound book from the bag, his hunting journal that his father had given him when he first sent Jake off to Blackwood Creek. He had hoped that he might get some privacy to write in it, for he used it to record many personal thoughts that he wasn’t entirely sure he felt comfortable sharing with Logan. And he had a lot to write about, because he hadn’t had the opportunity since the evening he and Logan had snuck away from camp.  
   
“What’s that?” Logan asked as Jake started writing.  
   
“My hunting journal,” Jake explained shortly, not wanting to share much about the private book.  
   
Logan leaned closer, trying to read what Jake was writing. He seemed simply curious, and although Jake didn’t think Logan was trying to find secrets he could taunt Jake with, he still moved the book to his other side where Logan couldn’t see. “But you’ve never been hunting,” Logan stated plainly. His voice held no malice but his words made Jake cringe all the same.  
   
“My dad gave it to me my first summer of camp,” Jake replied. “He said to record everything I learned, so that I’d have it all in one place during a real hunt.” Logan nodded thoughtfully.  
   
“My dad had a journal like that,” Logan said. “I don’t. My dad always said he’d get me one when I was ready to start hunting on my own. But here I am without him, and I don’t have a journal to write in.” Logan shrugged. Jake wondered if it bothered Logan that he had a journal while Logan didn’t. It certainly seemed that a hunting journal, like a first hunt, was something of a coming of age gift for hunters’ children. He wondered if Logan felt cheated that Jake, who had never been hunting, had had a journal for so long, while Logan, who had assisted in hunts from a young age, had none.  
   
“Have you been going to camp for long?” Logan asked innocently. “It’s almost halfway full.” He pointed to the pages of the journal, which were indeed nearly half filled.  
   
“This was my tenth year,” Jake admitted with a smile. “But it’s not all stuff I learned at camp. Some of it is just stuff that happened during camp, friends I made and games I played, things like that. And a lot of it is just this sort of thing.” Jake flipped back to an entry from when he’d been nine years old, a page dated during the school year, with “I want to go back to camp!” written across the top in a child’s untidy scrawl, and nothing more.  
   
Logan laughed softly as he looked down at the page. “You really loved Blackwood Creek, didn’t you?”  
   
“It was every child’s dream,” Jake said fondly, a wistful smile on his face as he thought back to those childhood memories. “Going to summer camp to train to fight evil monsters? It’s like something out of a storybook. Any kid would love that.” Jake smiled to himself as he recalled the many happy days he’d had at camp when he was younger. Then his smile faded as he thought of the later days, and how things had changed as the years passed.  
   
“The older I got,” Jake continued, his voice growing softer, “the more serious I was about it. Until it wasn’t just a game to play during the summer. It was more like training to go to war. I started to understand that for hunters, and for the people they protect, it’s a matter of life and death. I felt like I had a calling, a responsibility, because my eyes had been opened to the danger that’s out there. I started to see myself as being different from other people, because of what I knew. It was still…” Jake trailed off and laughed sadly.  
   
“It was still like a storybook, but like one for an older kid. I had been picked; I had been set aside and separated from the others. I had been trained and now I had a responsibility to use my training to protect other people, even if it meant I would know things they never would, and that they’d never be able to understand me because they wouldn’t know what I knew. It was kind of lonely to think about, but it also made me feel… I don’t know, special, I guess. And it would be a life full of excitement and danger. Not boredom and normality and pointlessness. I wanted the hunter’s life.”  
   
“I… I started to think that the kids I went to school with were different from me, because they had an essentially different view of the world from what I did, and that I just couldn’t connect with them. I felt that people I knew from camp were my only  _real_  friends. And I started to believe that the life I led during the school year was a lie.”  
   
Logan frowned as Jake spoke. When Jake came to the end of the story, he shook his head slowly. “We’re opposites, I guess.” Logan stared at the bedspread as he spoke, not meeting Jake’s eyes. His soft voice was filled with emotion. “Me, my dad was a hunter and my mom was a civilian, a nurse. He tried to settle down with her and leave the hunter’s ways behind. She died in a car crash when I was a baby, and I guess he just gave up on a normal life after that. He started traveling and hunting again, and took me with him. I grew up thinking the hunting life was totally normal, that other families were exactly the same way. When I got older, I started to understand that I was different from other kids. They didn’t know how to fire a shotgun; they didn’t have to memorize Latin exorcisms. They had both parents and a house to go home to every night and they stayed at the same school for more than a few days at a time.”  
   
“The more I understood, the more I resented it. There were a lot of times that I wished my father had given me over to a relative, or just put me up for adoption after my mom died. So I could be normal. That was when I was in middle school. We fought a lot then, my dad and I. I threatened to run away a couple times. Tried it once or twice. He always found me.”  
   
“As I got older, I realized that by the time I understood enough to resent the life I had, I had already taken in enough of the lifestyle that I was too far gone to try to be normal. There was nothing else I knew how to be, and I was too set in my ways to learn something new. I could never be anything besides a hunter. Once I accepted that, I started to understand my dad a little better. He loved my mom, really loved her, enough to try to change ways that were so engrained they’d almost become a part of his being. It tore him up when she died; he was never the same man as before he met her. He brought me with him because he didn’t want to be alone, and because I was all he had left of her. I guess I can’t blame him for that.”  
   
“After I accepted that I was a hunter, and started to understand what my father had felt when my mother died, we became a lot closer. He’s all I have, really, all I’ve ever had, and even though I’m eighteen now and I know how to take care of myself, I just don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.”  
   
Logan fell silent and Jake stared back at him in wonder, struggling to comprehend the life Logan must have led. As Logan had said, they were opposites in a way. They had both led a life that they hated, and they both saw the other’s life as being ideal. Jake recalled the first time he’d spoken to Logan, how he had casually mentioned his civilian life and how he hated it, before eagerly asking Logan for details of his life as a hunter. He could only imagine how it must have felt for Logan to hear that Jake had lived his dream life, but scorned all of it and wanted the life that Logan had led.  
   
“My dad,” Jake murmured, looking away from Logan. “My dad was also a hunter who tried to settle down with a civilian. He kept hunting after he got married, though. One time, he was hunting a shapeshifter and it took his appearance and came to the house where my mom and I were. I was really little at the time, so I don’t remember, but it nearly killed us both. After that my dad decided we were safer without him. He taught my mom a few basic things to help her keep us safe, and then he left us and went off hunting again. He wanted me to go to Blackwood Creek so I could learn how to defend myself.”  
   
Logan nodded. “It’s all about the mothers,” he said softly. “Maybe if my mother had lived, I’d have had your life.”  
   
“And if the shapeshifter had killed mine, I would’ve had yours,” Jake agreed. Both were silent for a long time, contemplating their respective lives and how they might have gone differently. At length Jake murmured, “I’m sorry,” and Logan looked up at him with a surprised expression.  
   
“For what?”  
   
Jake shrugged awkwardly. “For saying those things when we first met. I talked about my life like I hated it, and I made it pretty clear that I wanted your life. But to you having a mother and living in one place and going to the same school must sound like a dream come true.”  
   
Logan stared off past Jake, his eyes glassy. “’I guess you don’t know what that feels like,’” he murmured, then turned his eyes to Jake. “That’s what you said. ‘I guess you don’t know what that feels like, being stuck in a civilian life.’ I had wished for so long that I could have a civilian life, and I’d finally given up on it. It felt… I don’t know, like you were mocking me, or something. I knew you didn’t understand how I felt, but I was still angry. It made me want to hurt you, so I said some things I probably shouldn’t have. I’m sorry too.”  
   
“What, you, apologizing?” Jake asked with a forced smile, and Logan managed a grin in return.  
   
“Yup. Doesn’t happen very often, so enjoy it while you can.” Jake laughed, a genuine laugh, and picked up his journal to start writing in it. Logan let him, allowing the conversation to die, but the silence between them wasn’t an awkward one.  
   
   
   
   
After Jake finished writing about all that had happened since his last entry, the two boys talked late into the evening. Jake lay in the little bed and Logan sat in his chair, and they talked for hours on end, just getting to know one another. They exchanged details about their lives, from the various schools they had gone to and sports they had played to the different parts of the country they’d seen.  
   
“Have you ever been in a serious relationship?” Logan asked Jake.  
   
Jake shook his head. “Not really. I dated a few girls for a while, but I was never very serious with them. I never really cared about any of them; it was kind of just to not be single, if that makes sense.” Jake felt silent, and he toyed with the hem of the quilt as he wondered how much he dared to say. How much Logan would let him say. “I used to think I never connected with any of them because they didn’t know about hunting; their views of the world were just too different from mine. But lately I’ve started to wonder if it was less that and more… the fact that they were girls.”  
   
Logan nodded thoughtfully, but offered no advice or comments. Jake could see he’d have to ask a question outright to get Logan to say anything. “What about you?” he asked. “Any serious relationships?”  
   
Logan shook his head. “I’ve hooked up with a couple people, hunters’ kids I’ve run into and civilians, but I’ve never been in a serious relationship.”  
   
“How many of them were guys?” Jake asked, raising an eyebrow.  
   
Logan smiled wryly. “A few.”  
   
“How did you know that you’re bi?” Jake pressed. Logan looked up at him and frowned.  
   
“I already told you, I’m not helping you figure out if you like guys. I don’t want to get mixed up in that.”  
   
“What about you?” Jake challenged. He knew they were going into dangerous territory now, but he wouldn’t be the first one to back down. “Were you always totally sure of what you wanted, even the first time you hooked up with a guy?”  
   
Logan’s jaw clenched as he considered how to answer the question. “Doesn’t matter,” he ground out finally. “I know what I want now, and it definitely doesn’t include getting mixed up with a confused teenager who’s just going to use me to satisfy his own curiosity and then probably want to forget any of it ever happened. There are other guys who are more than willing to show you the ropes, no matter how long you plan on staying with them.” Logan’s eyes flashed and he glared disdainfully down at Jake. “I have no responsibility to you. Come back when you’ve figured out what, and who, you want.”  
   
“I think I’m starting to,” Jake replied. Logan raised his chin and stared back, a challenge in his eyes. “Come here,” Jake demanded.  
   
Logan rose from his chair and stepped towards the bed. Jake beckoned him closer, and Logan placed a hand beside Jake’s head on mattress and leaned down until there was barely an inch of space between their faces. The anger was gone from Logan’s eyes now and he looked almost scared. Jake could understand that. He was scared too. But he knew what he wanted now, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what it said about him, or how things would end up.  
   
“I want you,” Jake whispered, and lifted his head from the pillow just enough to allow their lips to meet. It was soft and tender, almost uncharacteristically so, considering how violently their personalities sometimes clashed. Logan took the initiative, caressing Jake’s lips with his tongue, asking for entrance. Jake granted it, allowing Logan to control the kiss without putting up any struggle. Jake’s good hand rose to card through Logan’s soft, short hair, and Logan lifted his other hand to cup the side of Jake’s face. Their tongues twined together leisurely, not battling for dominance but simply reveling in the touch of the other. Soon, though, the need to breathe became too great, and they broke apart.  
   
The moment they separated, Logan pulled back from Jake and turned away, the back of one hand over his mouth. He took a step away from the bed as though he wanted to flee the room, but stopped, hesitating. Jake could see the tension in his muscles and the rigidity of his posture; he was ready to run but unable to make the decision. “What’s wrong?” Jake murmured softly, afraid that he might scare Logan off.  
   
Logan didn’t answer for a long time, and Jake began to worry that something bad had happened without his noticing. Finally Logan whispered, so quietly Jake barely heard, “I could fall in love with you.”  
   
Jake almost laughed in relief. “And I might already be in love with you. What’s wrong with that?”  
   
“What’s going to happen when the summer ends?” Logan asked. The tightness of his muscles had lessened but he remained facing away from Jake. “Will we ever see each other again?”  
   
“If we want to, then we will,” Jake replied stubbornly. “Besides, why worry about that now? Can’t you just live in the moment and be happy?”  
   
Logan turned back to Jake, a twisted, sad smile on his face. “I can do the whole living-in-the-moment thing,” he said almost bitterly. “But not when I’m serious about someone. Not when I’m in love. I don’t want to put my heart out there and have it crushed.”  
   
Jake shook his head emphatically. “Look at my dad, Logan. Look at yours. There are no assurances in this life, especially not for hunters. Logan, I could die on this hunt. You could die on it! Shouldn’t you try to be happy while you can?”  
   
Logan hung his head sadly, and when he spoke it was in a defeated tone. “Not if it means that it hurts more when it’s over. I  _am_  looking at my dad, Jake. He fell apart after my mom died. I may have only been a baby when it happened, but I lived with the effects of it my whole life. I saw how much it hurt him. He never fully recovered. I don’t want that to happen to me.”  
   
Jake pulled himself up to a sitting position and reached out to take Logan’s hand. He was a little surprised when the other teen didn’t simply snatch his hand away, and he took it as a good sign. “Logan, you’ll never be happy if you’re always worrying like that. You’ll never even give yourself the chance.”  
   
Logan shook his head, not looking at Jake. He didn’t so much pull his hand from Jake’s as let it fall, and Jake could tell from that movement just how hopeless Logan considered his situation to be. He saw he would get no more out of Logan, at least not tonight, but he wasn’t ready to let the conversation end. Jake changed the subject. “What about Holly? Seems like you two used to be pretty serious.”  
   
Logan laughed softly, but Jake could tell that the bitterness was starting to fade. “Holly’s one of the living-in-the-moment things. She’s a good friend. She’s my…” He broke off and smiled tiredly at Jake. “Well, until I met you I’d have said she’s my best friend. We both knew when things started out that neither of us was in love with the other. We both knew that however the sexual part of our relationship ended, we’d be certain to keep our friendship strong. It’s a lot like you and Rae, I think.”  
   
Jake’s jaw dropped at that. His mind scrambled for the right words to express just how wrong the statement was. “Wh-what?” was the best he could manage. “You think Rae and I…? No way!”  
   
“Really?” Logan looked genuinely surprised. “I thought for sure you were. You seemed so jealous when she was spending time with me.”  
   
Jake crossed his arms and looked away, a blush rising in his cheeks. He mumbled under his breath something about not knowing whom he was jealous of. One of Logan’s eyebrows arched up. “Oh, so you were jealous of  _her_ , then, huh? Seems like you’ve always known pretty well what you wanted; you just weren’t ready to admit it.” His tone was back to gentle teasing again. If Jake was surprised by the complete one-eighty of Logan’s mood, he didn’t comment. He was just glad that Logan seemed to be happy now.  
   
“I’ve never felt this way about any guy but you,” Jake admitted solemnly. “Really, I’ve never felt this way about anyone, boy or girl.”  
   
Logan looked at Jake thoughtfully, and Jake couldn’t read in his expression what was going through his mind. Then Logan leaned over and pressed his lips lightly against Jake’s. Jake was surprised, but not unhappy, and he kept still as Logan kissed him. He was afraid of doing something to make Logan run again.  
   
“Maybe I can give this living-in-the-moment thing a chance, at least for now,” Logan murmured against Jake’s lips when the kiss ended. “I’m not totally in love with you yet.”  
   
Jake laughed and kissed back. It made him sad, though, to think that Logan was going into this relationship expecting it to end, and end badly. But he would leave the argument alone for now, he decided, because he didn’t want to scare Logan away by pushing it. He just hoped that by the end of the summer he’d be able to convince Logan that it wasn’t so dangerous to put himself out there, and that love didn’t always have to end in tragedy.  
   
Jake was beginning to realize something about Logan. Under his rough exterior, under the bitterness and resentment and anger, and under the kindness and loyalty that were buried beneath them, Logan was fragile and afraid. He had lived a life so separated from others, so void of normal relationships, that for him, trusting another person and having his happiness be dependent upon them was more frightening than any monster he might face.  
   
Jake was determined to prove to Logan that he was worthy of that trust.


	9. Chapter 9

Jake and Logan left Ross’ Roadhouse at noon the next day. Logan drove, and Jake lay in the passenger seat with it tilted all the way back, because he’d found that lying across the back seat meant that one of his bruised sides would be pressed against the cushions somewhere. If Logan kept his shotgun on the floor by Jake’s feet and his revolver firmly in his jeans pocket, neither commented on it. Jake tried to rest as they drove, and Logan wanted to let him. They spoke little, and the radio was kept to the volume of soft background noise.  
   
Whenever they stopped for a bathroom break, Logan would help Jake from the car and walk with him to the bathroom, hovering at his shoulder like a worried mother. Jake insisted on using the stall, embarrassed to drop his pants with Logan standing just beside him, and Logan waited outside of the stall for him. When Jake washed his hands, Logan carefully peeled off the gauze taped to his palm, and reapplied it when Jake was done. Jake complained about the hovering, but privately he was glad for it because it let him know that Logan cared.  
   
Whenever they stopped for food it was at a drive-thru, because Logan didn’t want Jake to have to get up and walk any more than he needed to. They would park in the side of the lot to eat their food, talking idly to pass the time. Occasionally Logan would lean over and press a gentle kiss against Jake’s cheek. Jake thought that the kisses and worrying spoke volumes. To him they were clear signs of being in love, something Logan refused to admit to, but Jake said nothing about it. He knew that asking Logan to say he was in love would only make Logan pull away. It was enough for him that Logan felt comfortable enough to show him signs of affection, especially in public. Jake, for his part, was uncomfortable with showing his love for another man in public, and he couldn’t help but look around nervously whenever Logan kissed him. He was sure Logan noticed his nervousness, but the other teen didn’t comment on it, nor did he stop the kisses.  
   
When it was just starting to get dark, they stopped for gas and Logan got out to pump it. As he climbed out of the car, he turned back to Jake and pressed something into Jake’s hand. Jake, who had been sleeping until Logan pulled over and was still half asleep, tightened his fingers around the object and glanced down to see what it was.  
   
The car keys.  
   
Jake swallowed a sudden surge of emotion as he looked down at the keys in his hand. He knew that Logan giving him the keys was a purely a symbolic gesture, because Jake wasn’t going to get out of the car and was in no danger of being left behind. But what it expressed, a deep desire to prove himself worthy of Jake’s trust, was incredibly moving.  
   
Jake looked up at Logan as the other teen started to turn away. He reached out and grabbed Logan’s wrist to stop him. Logan flinched at the touch, and Jake knew he must have been fighting an instinctive desire to pull away from a grasp that was detaining him. Jake turned Logan’s hand over and pressed the keys back into his palm before releasing him.  
   
Logan looked down at the keys, then up at Jake, and their eyes locked. Though no words passed between them, they both understood the significance of the moment. Jake was saying that he trusted Logan implicitly, with his well-being, his heart, and even his life.  
   
His eyes still locked with Jake’s, Logan took the keys and slowly, deliberately slipped them into his pocket. Jake understood what Logan meant by it. He was saying that he accepted the responsibility of Jake’s trust, and would do whatever it took to keep Jake safe, both physically and emotionally. For someone like Logan, who shied away from serious relationships, it must have been a very difficult thing to do. But, Jake thought as Logan turned away to pump the gas, he had done it, which meant that Logan must know there was something more here than in his previous hookups. Jake was glad for that.  
   
The gas pump clicked off, and Logan climbed back into the car. He glanced over at Jake, who smiled in return. Then Logan leaned over and pressed a light and gentle kiss against Jake’s lips. For once Jake didn’t worry about who might be watching, and he kissed back. When Logan pulled away, he put the key in the ignition without a word, and they drove off. Jake smiled as he watched Logan driving. He was thinking of just how far and how fast their relationship had progressed since they’d first left Blackwood Creek. He could only imagine where they might end up by the end of their trip.  
   
   
   
   
It was late in the night when they finally did stop, near the Missouri-Nebraska border. They went to three different motels just inside the Missouri border before finding one that had a room open. It was a single room, with one king-sized bed, but by that time they were both glad not to be sleeping in the car.  
   
Logan carried both his and Jake’s belongings up to the room, and opened the door. Jake went in and inspected it. He turned back to Logan. “Should one of us take the floor? Or are we old enough to share a bed without fighting over the covers?”  
   
“The problem isn’t the covers; it’s your snoring,” Logan replied with a little smile.  
   
“Hey!” Jake cried. “I do not snore!”  
   
Logan laughed and set their things on the bed. “I think we can manage to share the bed,” he said as he picked his toothbrush and toothpaste from the pile of belongings.  
   
“Will you molest me in my sleep?” Jake asked, eyeing Logan with mock suspicion. Logan grinned wolfishly.  
   
“Only a little.” Jake laughed and flopped down on the bed as Logan turned towards the bathroom. When he reached the door he looked back at Jake and grinned. “I promise you’ll enjoy it.” Jake laughed again and waved Logan off. Logan shrugged and shut himself in the bathroom to shower and prepare for bed.  
   
Jake pulled out his journal and started scribbling a few sentences about the day. Although not much had happened in the way of hunting, he had a lot to record about Logan and the way their relationship was progressing. He smiled as he wrote about the hovering and mothering in the bathroom, the little kisses for no reason, and the exchange of the keys. When he finished writing the entry, he looked back at the previous one to check the date to put at the top of the page. Jake frowned as he wrote the date down, realizing what the next day would be.  
   
Logan stepped from the bathroom at that moment, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and ruffling his hair dry with a towel. “Yours,” Logan told him.  
   
“It’s my birthday tomorrow,” Jake said, and Logan looked at him curiously. “July fifteenth,” Jake explained. “I’ll be eighteen.”  
   
Logan nodded thoughtfully. “Good; we can go to a fancy steak place and get you a free dinner.”  
   
Jake laughed and threw a pillow at Logan, which he ducked easily. Logan picked up the pillow and threw it half-heartedly, hitting the foot of the bed. “I’m gonna take my shower,” Jake said, levering himself up.  
   
“Will you be okay?” Logan asked seriously. “You don’t need my help, do you?”  
   
“No, pervert!” Jake said with a grin. “I know what you’re trying to do. You just want to see me naked.”  
   
“Yup, that’s all I want. I’m just a dog.” Logan stretched out on the bed and tucked his hands behind his head, grinning rakishly at Jake. Jake rolled his eyes at the other teen and turned back to the bathroom. “Be careful taking the bandages off,” Logan called after him. “And don’t put a shirt on when you get out. I’m going to wrap your ribs again.”  
   
“Yeah, alright,” Jake called back as he closed the door behind him. He shrugged off his shirt, wincing when he had to lift his harms to do it. Maybe he should have let Logan help. Jake carefully unraveled the bandages around his abdomen and unbuckled his pants, letting them drop to the floor. He climbed into the shower and turned the water on.  
   
As Jake reached up to run his hands though his hair, his left side and his right shoulder both gave a twinge of pain. He gritted his teeth and thought to himself that if he wasn’t feeling better the next night, he’d let Logan help him shower.  
   
Jake managed to finish his shower without worsening his injuries or breaking open any scabs, then he dried off as much as he could and pulled on a clean pair of boxers before coming out of the bathroom. Logan must have seen the pain in his face, because the moment Jake stepped out Logan hurried to his side and helped him to the bed. While Logan bandaged his ribs, Jake explained the trouble he’d had with his shoulder and side and Logan nodded sympathetically.  
   
“I didn’t really offer to help because I wanted to see you naked, you know,” Logan murmured as he worked. “I’ve had broken ribs before; I know how much trouble they can be, even when you’re doing simple things. Don’t be afraid to ask me next time. You can wear your swim shorts in the shower if you want. I won’t try to molest you.”  
   
“I know,” Jake sighed as he lay down in the bed. Logan lay beside him and took Jake’s injured hand in both of his, gently taping gauze across the half-healed cut. He put more bruise ointment over Jake’s side, shoulder, and hip, and allowed Jake to apply it to his own back and neck, so long as Jake didn’t try to sit up.  
   
When the first aid kit had been packed up once more, Logan settled down in the bed next to Jake. He pushed himself up on one arm and leaned across Jake to kiss him gently. Jake lifted his good hand to wrap around the back of Logan’s neck, being careful of his bruises. They both knew that their injuries, mostly Jake’s, would prevent them from doing much more than kissing, but they were content with it, for now. Jake was still worried, a little, about Logan insisting that there was nothing meaningful between them yet and making it plain that if there started to be, he would end it.  
   
But mostly Jake was happy just to be with Logan, to argue with him and laugh with him during the day, and kiss him and cuddle with him at night. On the road with Logan it seemed like the realities of his life were far away, far enough to be powerless to affect him. Sometimes Jake liked to imagine that after they found Logan’s father the three of them would just keep driving and hunting, and Jake would never have to deal with his mother wanting him to go to college. He doubted it would be so, but as long as he was on the road, he would pretend that it could happen. He would enjoy the time he had with Logan, no matter how long or short it might be.  
   
   
   
   
The next day was Jake’s birthday, and to his surprise Logan made good on his threat to take him to a nice restaurant. After a long day of driving Logan stopped at a gas station and made Jake change into the nicest clothes he had, refusing to answer any questions Jake asked about why he needed to wear them and what they were doing. Logan himself changed into a suit, which shocked Jake. Jake certainly wouldn’t have expected Logan to have something like that in his ratty old duffle bag, and it made Jake feel poorly dressed by comparison, in only a nice button-down and dress slacks. Logan dismissed Jake’s inquiries about why he had the suit, saying that it came in handy during certain hunts when he might need to impersonate, say, a federal agent, or the rich son of a billionaire. Jake just pointed out that Logan didn’t look old enough to be a federal agent, which made Logan scoff. Jake didn’t want to admit that he was insecure about his appearance standing next to Logan. The other hunter cleaned up well.  
   
Jake kept asking questions that Logan didn’t answer until the moment they turned off the street into the parking lot of what Jake thought must have been the nicest, most expensive steak restaurant in the small city they had stopped in. “No!” Jake cried in disbelief as Logan got out and went to his door to open it for him. “No, you did not!”  
   
“I did,” Logan replied smugly as Jake climbed out of the car. “Happy birthday.” He kissed Jake’s cheek lightly and they went to the door together. Jake sat back as Logan requested, and got, a table for two. He was amazed by the way Logan handled himself in such a formal setting, since it was obvious to Jake that Logan was far more at home in dingy bars than elegant restaurants.  
   
The woman at the front of the restaurant led them to a table. She didn’t respond when Jake thanked her, but rather glared down her nose at them as they sat. She didn’t bring any menus or silverware, instead leaving them at an empty table. Jake stared after her with injured confusion as she left. “Don’t mind her,” Logan said angrily. “Some people can’t handle seeing two men happy together.”  
   
Jake watched uneasily as Logan flagged down another waitress and asked for some menus and silverware. She was much more polite than the last woman, and offered to put an order for a free steak in the moment Logan mentioned that it was Jake’s birthday. When the waitress for their section came around, they both ordered drinks and Logan ordered his own steak, explaining that the previous waitress had already gotten the order for Jake’s free steak. Mollified by the lack of hostility from the other two women, Jake forced the first waitress’ attitude from his mind and told himself to relax.  
   
As their meals were brought and they began to eat, Jake noticed subtle differences in Logan’s behavior that made him realize Logan was uncomfortable being there. For all his outward confidence, it seemed that Logan didn’t like being in a formal situation. He kept tugging at his collar and looking around nervously, something Jake had never seen him do even in the bars they frequented, which were arguably much more dangerous. Although Jake, having grown up with a poorly paid teacher for a mother, wasn’t exactly used to formal settings himself, he was nowhere near as uneasy as Logan seemed to be. Nevertheless, it made him happy that Logan was trying to make a romantic gesture by bringing Jake there even when it made him nervous.  
   
While they ate, Jake noticed that other customers seemed to be staring at them. He even thought, though he wondered if he was just being paranoid, that they were whispering amongst themselves about him and Logan. He noticed Logan stiffen under the scrutiny, and at first thought that Logan was becoming even more on edge. Then he looked up and realized that, rather than unease, Logan’s posture expressed self-assurance and conviction. Jake was glad that at least one of them was not bothered by the whispering going on behind their backs.  
   
Jake was still not comfortable describing himself as homosexual or bisexual, and the disapproving and sometimes even openly hostile looks from some of the people in the restaurant sapped his confidence. Logan, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on their condemnation. With every frown from a customer or rude remark from a server, he sat a little straighter, lifted his chin a little higher, and glared a little more defiantly at the other person. Jake admired him all the more for it, and wished he could have that kind of self-assuredness.  
   
As much as Jake appreciated Logan trying to be romantic, he was still glad when they left the restaurant, changing their clothes in another gas station, and went to the opposite end of the class spectrum, what seemed to be the cheapest, filthiest bar in the city, to hustle pool. Logan’s dinner alone had wiped them out, and they had no money for a motel fee. They entered separately, as Logan had taught Jake. There was a pool game in progress already, and they waited until it broke up. Then Jake racked up the balls and practiced his shooting, trying to replicate Logan’s prefect almost-successful shot. It took considerably more skill to miss the right way than to hit the ball.  
   
When Jake was done, Logan challenged him to a game. Jake threw the game on purpose, and sat back to watch as Logan started a game with another player. He admired Logan’s skill with a pool cue, the way he could make some shots insane enough to look like sheer luck, and could miss just enough to win as though by chance. Logan was certainly the most skilled pool player Jake had ever seen, bar none. He loved to watch Logan’s game, to imagine just how much skill each shot involved. He particularly liked it when Logan leaned over the pool table to make a shot and the hem of his shirt rode up, giving Jake a nice view of Logan’s jeans-clad ass and sometimes a strip of slightly bruised skin as well.  
   
As he enjoyed the show that was Logan hustling pool, Jake tried to order a glass of beer from a waitress. He knew Logan wouldn’t like it if he saw, but he hoped that Logan would be engrossed with his play enough that he wouldn’t notice. The sight of Logan leaning over the pool table, showing off his skills and his body, was certainly something that needed alcohol to accompany it, Jake thought.  
   
When the waitress took the order without carding him, Jake thought he was going to get away with it, but as usual Logan’s sharp eyes had seen the exchange. When the waitress brought the beer over to Jake’s table, Logan left off in his game and came over. He stood threateningly over Jake, who was seated at the table, and frowned down at him with his arms crossed. Jake managed a sheepish smile, feeling like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But Logan seemed genuinely angry, and Jake’s shaky smile fell to be replaced by a worried look. He didn’t want Logan to be mad at him.  
   
Logan grabbed the beer and pulled it towards himself, glaring at Jake as he did. Jake opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could get the words out Logan lifted the glass and took a huge gulp of the beer. While Jake stared after him in amazement, Logan turned away and went back to the pool table, taking Jake’s beer with him.  
   
Logan leaned one hip against the pool table and gulped down the beer. When he finished he slammed the mug down on the edge of the table and smirked at the men he’d been playing against. “Had to collect my winnings!” Logan bragged. “I bet that guy I could hustle at least five hundred dollars at this bar!”  
   
Jake’s jaw fell open in shock. He rose to his feet, expecting one of the men to take a swing at Logan at any minute. If a bar fight erupted, he wanted to be at Logan’s side, even if he wouldn’t be much use with his injuries.  
   
But, to Jake’s even greater shock, the men Logan had been playing against simply laughed as well. As Jake watched, they slapped Logan on the back and congratulated him, then stood back to let him finish his game. Logan made his shots with effortless precision, not even bothering to feign incompetence. When he’d hit the eight ball in, Logan straightened up and looked around the bar, a smirk on his face.  
   
“Double or nothing!” Logan challenged, addressing the entire bar. “You’ve seen what I can really do. Do any of you think you could beat me?”  
   
The men of the bar talked amongst themselves, considering the offer. Then finally one man stepped forward. He looked to be in his thirties, with short black hair and a two-day beard, and sharp green eyes. His clothes, well-worn from travel with burns and cuts along the leather jacket, made Jake think of a hunter, rather than a local bicker, pool shark, or bar tough.  
   
“If you beat me, kid,” the man said to Logan, “you’ll have won a thousand dollars here, and earned every penny of it.”  
   
Jake sat back on his barstool to watch the game. He was still nervous, even though none of the men seemed openly hostile to either him or Logan. He almost wished that Logan would lose and repay the money, just so that the men of the bar would have no reason to resent them. At the same time, a thousand dollars in one night would be a hell of a haul. And if Logan wanted it, he could probably take it. But looking at Logan’s grinning face, Jake couldn’t tell what the other teen might be planning. Did he intend to throw the game? Did he intend to win it? If Logan was going to play for real, it all came down to the break, Jake decided. No matter how good the man was, if Logan could break, he would win.  
   
But Logan allowed the man to break, saying it was the least he could do after tricking everyone else. Jake watched in growing anticipation as the man shot in two stripes on breaking, then five more in quick succession. He was on the eight ball before Logan even got a chance to play. Logan’s expression was completely calm as he observed, and Jake still couldn’t tell if he’d been planning on letting the man win or if he’d been expecting the man to mess up so that he could take the game. Even if Logan had planned on winning, Jake wasn’t at all sure he’d be able to, the way this man was playing.  
   
Jake leaned forward in his chair, watching intently as the man tapped the point of his pool stick by his chosen pocket and took aim. The ball seemed to be perfectly on track, and the anticipation had Jake rising to his feet to watch as it rolled towards the pocket, biting his lip and clenching his fists apprehensively. Then suddenly the ball glanced off the edge of the table just next to the pocket and rolled across the table. The man had missed his shot and it was Logan’s turn. Jake breathed a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair.  
   
Logan didn’t waste his chance. He made short work of the seven solids on the table, and then took the eight without difficulty. The man laughed and handed over five hundred dollars, meaning that Logan and Jake would leave the bar a thousand dollars richer. The men of the bar congratulated Logan, offering to buy him beers and patting his back, which Jake could see made him wince a little from the bruises only a few days old. Logan turned them down, though, and he beckoned to Jake. Still flushed with excitement, Jake joined Logan by the pool table. The men congratulated him as well, and said that he shouldn’t have bet against Logan. Jake laughed and agreed with them. He would never bet against Logan in a real game. Logan was the best.  
   
The two of them stuck around long enough for a round of drinks on the green-eyed pool player, beer for the locals and soda for the two boys, before heading out to the car. Logan was smiling and relaxed when they left the bar, but despite their big windfall and the graciousness of the bar’s inhabitants, Jake was still bothered by Logan’s actions. There were so many things that could have gone wrong, and if they had Jake and Logan would have been lucky if the least that happened to them was losing all their winnings. He couldn’t imagine what had possessed Logan to announce to the bar that he’d been hustling; especially after he had cautioned Jake the first time they’d done it. And all, it seemed, to keep Jake from drinking beer!  
   
“What were you thinking?” Jake exclaimed once they reached the relative safety of the parking lot. “Is keeping me from drinking really that important to you? They might have killed you!”  
   
“And what if it had been different?” Logan asked, his tone light and cheerful. “What if I’d let you get drunk and then they found out I’d been cheating, and there really was a fight? What good would you be to me if you could barely stand up straight?”  
   
“I wouldn’t get that drunk!” Jake said defensively. Logan just shrugged, and Jake blushed. He knew he had a tendency to keep going once he started, but there was no way that Logan could know that! “Besides,” Jake grumbled, “how did you know there wouldn’t be a fight this time?”  
   
Logan turned back to the bar and pointed at the sign. “Roadhouse,” he said.  
   
Jake looked where Logan was pointing and saw that it was: the sign above the door proclaimed the establishment “Big Al’s Roadhouse.” Jake hadn’t even noticed the name.  
   
“I was taking a chance that this was a hunters’ bar,” Logan explained. “Even the civilian customers know these places are different. You don’t cater to hunters specifically without getting a reputation as a place for pool sharks. Hustlers getting beaten up would keep hunters away, so the owners don’t let it happen. Guys that get violent when they lose money would figure out pretty quickly that they’re not welcome in places like this.”  
   
“You knew it was a hunters’ bar?” Jake asked, frowning at the sign. He’d thought the man Logan played against last looked like a hunter.  
   
“No,” Logan replied with a shrug. “But even if the owner doesn’t know about hunting, there’ll probably be some hunters stopping there because of the name, so people will start to expect sharking. ‘Course, you never know. If it’s not a hunters’ bar, the owner might just as easily be against sharking, and throw people out when they get caught doing it. But, most roadhouses are hunters’ bars, so I thought it was pretty good odds I wouldn’t be in danger if I said it. I just wanted to teach you a lesson.”  
   
Jake looked between Logan and the bar in disbelief, and shook his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”  
   
Logan just laughed and went to the car.  
   
   
   
   
They left the bar and went to the edge of the interstate to find a hotel to stay at. Logan pulled the car up in front of an expensive-looking hotel, ignoring Jake’s protests. Logan argued that they had plenty of money now, and it was still Jake’s birthday, so he wanted to stay someplace nice. And anyway, he wanted to make it up to Jake for scaring him by telling the pool players he was hustling. Jake shook his head and let Logan go inside to book them a room. Logan was at the top of his game that night, and there was no arguing with him.  
   
Logan came back to the car with two room keys and pulled the car around to the parking lot. He parked and took the key from the ignition, but made no move to get out. When he turned to Jake his expression was nervous, and Jake straightened up in his seat, curious as to what Logan would say.  
   
“I got a room with one bed,” Logan told him. “I can go back right now and change it if you want,” he added in a rush, not letting Jake get a word in. “But I figured after we managed so well last night, and the one bed is cheaper, so I thought it would be okay. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I can go back and change it right now.” He started to open the door, like he expected Jake to want his own bed and couldn’t imagine getting any other answer.  
   
“Don’t,” Jake said, and Logan’s hand stilled on the door handle. He turned back to Jake with a hopeful expression. “Don’t change it. The one bed is fine. I like being close to you.”  
   
Logan leaned across the center console and kissed Jake. He was smiling when he pulled back, but didn’t say anything. Jake climbed out of the car, not bothering to take the keys from Logan. He could tell from the way Logan glanced at him that the other teen had noticed that, but Logan didn’t comment and Jake didn’t volunteer an explanation. There was a companionable silence between them as Logan got their things from the back and carried them up, letting Jake press the button for the elevator and put the key card into the door.  
   
“This is really nice,” Jake sighed as he stretched out on the big, soft bed.  
   
“It is,” Logan agreed, sitting on the end of the bed by Jake’s feet. Jake stretched his legs out across Logan’s lap and sighed contentedly as Logan pulled off Jake’s shoes and socks and began to rub his feet.  
   
“That’s nice,” Jake sighed, his eyes falling shut. Logan hummed in agreement, then shifted Jake’s feet from his lap.  
   
“Shower time,” Logan told him, patting Jake’s foot to get his attention. “Come on. Do you need me to help with your hair?”  
   
Jake raised both arms above his head, testing it out. “I think I can manage,” he replied. Logan nodded.  
   
“Alright. I’ll wrap your ribs again when you get out.” Jake nodded and slipped into the bathroom to prepare for bed.  
   
Jake was able to shower without much difficulty and Logan made quick work of the bandages. The bruises on Jake’s side, shoulder, and hip were starting to fade and Logan said that it was good; they were running low on bruise ointment anyway. After tending to Jake’s injuries, Logan took a shower himself. While he did, Jake crawled under the covers and pulled out his journal to write about what had happened that day. He was noting, for the third time in the entry, the importance of the word “roadhouse” in a bar’s name when Logan stepped out of the bathroom.  
   
Logan came over to the side of the bed and sat next to Jake, watching him write. Jake could smell the vanilla soap and Logan’s clean scent, and it distracted him from his writing. He was scribbling the last of his entry quickly when Logan interrupted.  
   
“What do you write about in there?” Logan asked.  
   
“Oh, everything.” Jake shrugged, using the question as an excuse to stop writing and focus on Logan. Logan’s short, curly hair was damp with water, but he’d towel-dried it and it stuck up at odd angles, starting to get its curl back as it dried. Water droplets still clung to his hair, and every now and then he would have to blink away a drop that rolled down his forehead and into his eyes. “I write down everything I learn about hunting,” Jake said. “Everything that happens during the day. Everything I think about.”  
   
“Do you write about me?” Logan asked. Jake laughed and grinned at him.  
   
“Of course!”  
   
Logan smiled and leaned closer, trying to get a look at the pages. “What do you write?”  
   
Jake held the book away. “That’s a secret!”  
   
Logan laughed and smirked at Jake. “About how Logan Taylor is the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on and you can’t wait until you’re healed up so he can fuck you?”  
   
“About how he’s a cocky bastard!” Jake replied with a playful grin, and Logan laughed again. “And he’ll never let me drink, and his driving sucks!”  
   
“Hey!” Logan cried, but he laughed all the same. Jake chuckled too, and smiled at Logan when the other boy stopped laughing and grinned at him.  
   
“But he’s good at pool,” Jake murmured. “And he’s absolutely gorgeous, scars and all. And if you can look past the cocky bastard part, he’s actually a really, really good guy.”  
   
Logan huffed and looked away, embarrassed. Jake smiled and went back to writing in his journal. A minute later he lifted his eyes to find Logan watching him with a tender expression. A shy smile spread across Jake’s face. “What?”  
   
Logan shook his head. “I think I’m in love with you,” he said softly. Jake closed his journal and set it aside, turning his attention fully to Logan.  
   
“And I know I’m in love with you,” he replied.  
   
Logan stood up from where he was seated on the bed and went around to the other side. He pulled back the covers and crawled in next to Jake, then leaned over him on one elbow and kissed him gently. Jake smiled into the kiss as he returned it.  
   
“I do love you,” Logan whispered when the kiss broke, before immediately sealing his lips to Jake’s once more.  
   
“I love you too,” Jake replied when the second kiss broke. He noticed that Logan had not said anything about ending their tenuous relationship, had not brought up what might happen when the summer came to an end and they might have to part ways. Jake was glad for that, but he still troubled by the things left unsaid. He knew that even if he didn’t say it out loud, Logan was worried about what would happen when their hunt was over. It made Jake worry too.  
   
But for tonight, Jake decided as Logan’s tongue caressed the roof of his mouth, he would put those worries from his mind and focus on the here and now. As they kissed leisurely, Jake reached behind Logan and flicked off the bedside lamp, so that darkness washed over both of them. A few kisses more and they settled down to sleep, Jake on his back because of the bruises on both his sides, and Logan on his side because of the bruises on his back. Logan’s head rested on Jake’s good shoulder, but he kept the rest of his body at a distance so as not to bump Jake’s injured ribs. Jake nuzzled Logan’s hair as he began to nod off. He liked the soft, comfortable weight of Logan’s head on his shoulder, the warmth of another body next to him, and the scent of Logan on his shirt when he woke up. He hoped he never had to fall asleep without Logan there beside him.  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Just as Logan had estimated, they reached Blue Ridge, Montana at the end of their fifth day out from Ross’ Roadhouse. It was late, well past dark, and both of them were tired from five long days on the road. They booked a hotel room for two nights, because Logan estimated the hunt would take at least the better part of the next day, and probably leave them in no shape for traveling.  
   
Jake could tell that Logan wanted to start looking for his father immediately, but he also knew that Logan realized he was too tired to do anything that night and would be better off starting his search in the morning, when he was sharper. The atmosphere in their room that night was solemn and tense. Logan couldn’t concentrate on what was on TV, and he kept getting up to pace the length of the room. Finally Jake called Logan to bed and forced him to lie down and rest. Logan wasn’t in the mood to be affectionate, but he allowed Jake to cuddle up against him and it seemed to help him calm down, to some extent. Eventually, with Jake’s help, he was able to relax enough to fall asleep.  
   
Their search for Logan’s father began the moment Logan woke up. While they ate breakfast at the restaurant next to their hotel, Logan skimmed through a phone book, looking for any bars in the vicinity with “roadhouse” in their name. He found two, one nearby and the other across town and a little ways outside city limits. As soon as they paid for their breakfast they set out for the closer one.  
   
When they arrived at Joe and Miriam’s Roadhouse, they found that there were no cars in the parking lot. Logan was not discouraged by this. Bars, he said, usually opened shortly after lunch and stayed open until late into the night. Although no one was around, Logan got out to have a look. Jake went with him, carrying a shotgun full of salt cartridges just in case.  
   
Logan circled around the back of the bar, surveying the building. It seemed that, like Ross, the owners of this place also lived in the back of their bar. The door was locked, and no one answered when Logan knocked on it. Not to be dissuaded, he picked the lock on the door while Jake stood guard, and they went in.  
   
“Hello?” Jake called as he stepped into the house. They were in the living room, it seemed, for there were couches and chairs centered around a large fireplace. He walked through the living room, looking around the house, while Logan headed towards the bar itself. Jake found a door that seemed to be a bedroom, and knocked on it. When there was no response, he carefully pushed it open. “Is anyone here?”  
   
“Don’t bother,” Logan’s voice said from behind him, making Jake jump and whirl around, shotgun raised. “There’s no one here.” Logan’s voice was bitter, and his shoulders were slumped in resignation. “The fridge and cabinets in the kitchen are empty, and there aren’t any tables in the bar. This place is closed down.”  
   
“Oh,” Jake whispered. Logan said no more, but turned and left. He didn’t bother to close the door behind him, so Jake did it and hurried to catch up with Logan, who had already started back towards the car. He scrambled into the passenger seat just before Logan started it up. His expression was grim, and he didn’t say a word to Jake as he pulled out of the parking lot and started back into town.  
   
Rather than going across town to the second roadhouse, as Jake had expected Logan to do, he followed the signs to the local library and stopped there. “We’re not going to the roadhouse?” Jake asked as he followed Logan inside.  
   
“There’s no point,” Logan muttered. “It’s probably closed.”  
   
“You think that one closed down too?”  
   
“No, I mean it’s not open at this hour,” Logan said as he slid into a chair before a large machine that looked like some kind of ancient computer. “We can go and ask there later tonight. For now we need to try to find the different articles that my dad brought to Holly. This is research. If we can find out where these things hunt and where they dump their bodies, we may be able to figure out where their nest is.”  
   
“What is this thing?” Jake asked as Logan started it up and began a search.  
   
“Newspaper archive. People scan the pages and load them onto these things, and you can search through them. If you only want news, it’s a lot better than the Internet, and you can limit it to local or national newspapers.” Logan looked up at Jake as he sat down at the machine next to Logan’s. “These news archives are invaluable to hunters, especially if you want to look for a pattern of attacks in a certain town going back for several years. But,” he added as he adjusted his search parameters, “Holly said my dad’s articles only went back three years, so that’s as far as we’ll look on the first search.”  
   
“Now,” Logan said, scrolling through his search results, “Holly said there were seven missing persons and five murders. I’ll handle the missings; you take the murders.”  
   
“How do I know it’s the right ones?” Jake asked.  
   
“Search for something about blood, or bite marks. Holly said they all disappeared from the same road, but she didn’t say which. When you find an article that sounds right, tell me where they disappeared from, and I’ll use that to find the other victims.”  
   
“She said there was a cattle mutilation too,” Jake murmured as he typed in his search and began looking through the results.  
   
“That’ll be useful too. It’ll give us a third location besides the hunting ground and dumping ground, and that’ll help us pinpoint their nest. That will probably be their first kill, before they wised up and figured out a good way of hunting and disposing of the bodies. It should be the closest to their nest of all three. The road they hunt on is probably on one side of the nest, and the dumping ground on the other. Aside from the cow, they’ll be careful not to do anything too close to where they’re staying.”  
   
“It’s like those criminal profiling shows,” Jake noted. “They can find exactly the street a serial killer lives on, based on where they take their victims and where they dump them.” Logan shrugged.  
   
“Vampires used to be people,” he said. “So I guess they are a lot like serial killers. It makes sense that the methods would be the same.”  
   
They fell silent after that, both working on their own research. When Jake found the street the victims had all disappeared on, Briar Road, he gave the name to Logan and let him put that into his search. After a few hours of research, they managed to find articles on all five murders and all but one of the seven missing people, as well as the cattle mutilation, which had proven very hard to pin down because there were three that looked promising. One turned out to be a wolf attack, the other the work of a local kid who seemed to have snapped one day.  
   
They took print-outs of the articles and a map of the city to a restaurant, and plotted out the different disappearances and body recoveries on the map. When it was done, Logan circled a spot of countryside that he though the nest would most likely be in. Then Logan told Jake he was going to go to the coroner’s office, to try to get more information on the state of the victims’ bodies. He was hoping for pictures of the bite marks because, he said grimly, they had nothing but his father’s word to go on that it was vampires, and that was before his father had arrived in Blue Ridge and been able to look around.  
   
Jake didn’t have the clothes needed to pass for an FBI agent, or the necessary credentials, so he was forced to stay behind at the library and try to track down the one missing person they hadn’t found yet. Jake didn’t like splitting up. Since the beginning of their hunt, he’d rarely been more than a few feet away from Logan. The only time they’d been separated by any significant distance was when Jake ran for the shotgun while Logan fought the ghost, and considering what had happened to Logan during that time, Jake was reluctant to let the other teen out of his sight again.  
   
Jake had to admit, though, that aside from strange bite marks and an apparent sentience, they knew nothing about what they were hunting aside from what Logan’s father had suspected it was, before he’d even gotten a chance to see the bodies. Although they’d already gotten the dead man’s blood in preparation for fighting vampires, they still weren’t certain what they were facing. In order to be positive, they would need to see the bite marks, and the only way to do that was for Logan to pretend to be FBI. Without a badge, Jake couldn’t accompany him. As much as Jake hated letting Logan out of his sight in a town where they knew  _something_  was lurking, he had to admit that it was necessary for their hunt. There was no other option, so Jake busied himself with his research and tried not to worry.  
   
It was early afternoon when Logan returned, with photos of the bite marks and full autopsy reports from the five known victims. Jake had finally managed to track down the seventh missing person, a foster child trying to run away, who hadn’t made more than a blip on the news radar. Although she had tried to leave town walking along the road the others had been taken from, most people seemed to believe she had simply run away, and no one had made much of an effort to investigate.  
   
The two boys went to a private room in the library and spread the autopsy photos and news articles out over a table. Logan was fairly certain from what he’d been told at the coroner’s office that they were indeed dealing with vampires. The victims’ blood had been drained, but the hearts hadn’t been taken, and other than the bite marks there hadn’t been any wounds. The bite marks were two hemispheres, like the shape of a human mouth, although the edges of the bite were ragged and it seemed that the person had had a mouth full of crooked canine teeth. Although he had never seen one before, Logan was confidant identifying it as a vampire bite from what he’d heard.  
   
“We have two choices now,” Logan said as he scooped up the papers. “We can go to the roadhouse and ask about my dad, since it should be opening around now. Or, we can go straight to the place the nest might be, and start looking. Personally, I’d like to get a little more information before we go poking around, and we might be able to get it at the roadhouse. But, if we go to the roadhouse first, it might be starting to get dark by the time we get to looking for the nest. We definitely don’t want to be scoping it out while they’re just waking up and getting ready to find their next victim. No matter what we find in either place, there’s not enough daylight left for a full-scale attack. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow. So, what should we do?”  
   
Jake frowned at the table as he considered it. Finally he shook his head. “Whatever we get from the bar, it won’t be much help to us if they’re awake by the time we find the nest. Better to look for them now and then come back to the bar. Whatever we find, we can see how to use it tomorrow, not tonight.”  
   
Logan nodded. “Alright. We’ll go out now. But first we need to go back to the hotel and get some weapons ready. We might not be planning on attacking them now but we don’t know what might happen, and I don’t want a repeat of the last time we went in unarmed.” He gave Jake a wry smile, and Jake nodded in agreement. They drove back to the motel and brought out their knives. Logan had his machete, but they had never gotten one for Jake. He would have to make due with Logan’s Bowie knife, if the fighting started too soon.  
   
Logan took the bottle of dead man’s blood from his duffle bag and opened it up. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and held it away from his face. “I hope this is still good,” Logan muttered as he dipped the corner of a washcloth into the bottle and carefully swabbed the brown sludge onto the blade of his machete.  
   
“Logan,” Jake said softly as the older teen prepared their weapons. “You know… I mean, you have to realize, it has been eleven days since your father went missing. I don’t know much about vampires, but most of these bodies were recovered within a week of disappearing.”  
   
Logan stopped wiping the blood across his knife. Without speaking he stared down at the cloth and blade in his hands, refusing to meet Jake’s eyes.  
   
“Logan,” Jake said as he reached out to lay a hand on the other boys’ shoulder. Logan flinched at his touch but didn’t try to shake him off. “I don’t want to have to say it, I really don’t. And I hope to God I’m wrong. But you have to be prepared for what might have happened. This may be a revenge hunt, not a rescue.”  
   
“I know,” Logan whispered. “I’ve known that ever since I couldn’t reach him. There’s always that risk, in this life, Jake. But I have to at least try. I can’t just give up.” He took a deep breath and let it out shakily, then lifted the bloody knife to stare at it against the light outside the window. “And if it is a revenge hunt, I’ll still finish it. I can’t leave here without killing these things.”  
   
Jake nodded. “I understand,” he whispered, and leaned closer to Logan. He rested his head on Logan’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around his body. After a moment Logan’s free arm snaked around Jake’s body, and he lowered the knife to his lap. They sat together in silence for several minutes, both offering and taking comfort from the other.  
   
At last Logan pulled away from Jake and stood up. “Enough of this,” he said as he passed Jake the Bowie knife and took up his machete. “We have a vampire nest to find.”  
   
   
   
   
They took the car and left the city limits to drive through the lattice of country roads within the area Logan had circled on the map. The landscape they drove through reminded Jake of the countryside around Blackwood Grove: gently rolling hills split into a patchwork of fields, with the occasional strip of trees standing out dark against the light grasses. There were many side roads turning off from the main path, and the boys made certain to drive down each one. Every time they came to any building that might have sheltered a vampire from the sun, they stopped a safe distance away and watched it. In most places they would see someone come out or go in within a few minutes of surveillance, at which point they deemed that building safe and moved on to the next. Sometimes, though, they would wait several minutes without seeing anyone enter or exit. When they felt they had been waiting too long at a particular spot they would carefully ease themselves from the car and sneak forward on foot, until they were able to peek through the windows and take a look around. The first few buildings like this that they came to proved to be abandoned, not inhabited by humans or vampires. The fifth building, however, was different.  
   
“The other roadhouse,” Jake observed as they stopped a good distance away. “Didn’t you say it should be open by now? There’s no one around.”  
   
“I guess this one closed down too,” Logan murmured. “From the looks of it, it’s been empty for a while.”  
   
“Yeah…” Jake said thoughtfully. Logan glanced over at him, silently asking what was wrong. “Do you hear something?” Jake asked. Logan shifted in his seat and leaned out the open window, listening.  
   
“Yeah…. Music.” Logan’s eyes flash as he sat back in his seat, a grim expression on his face. “This is the place.”  
   
“Are you sure?” Jake asked. “I mean, it could just be a bunch of local kids hanging out in an abandoned bar looking for booze.”  
   
Logan shook his head. “This is it,” he said, breathless with anticipation. “I’m sure it is.” Jake nodded slowly and drew the knife from his belt. Although he’d cautioned Logan, he had to admit that something about this place felt different from the others they’d stopped at. It put the hairs on the back of his neck up, but he couldn’t explain why.  
   
They both got out of the car as soundlessly as they could. In silent agreement they left the doors open, not wanting to make noise by slamming them. The keys remained in the ignition, so they would be able to drive away quickly if they needed to.  
   
“Do you think they’re awake?” Jake whispered to Logan as they crept forward.  
   
“I don’t know,” Logan all but mouthed back. “They could be. I don’t know if they actually need to sleep.”  
   
“The music’s playing,” Jake whispered, and Logan nodded. Music might mean someone was awake inside. The two of them moved slowly and silently, taking great care with every step not to kick any of the loose rocks that had fallen onto the road.  
   
“Son of a bitch,” Logan muttered as they drew closer and the building came into clearer focus. “This was a hunters’ bar.” He pointed to the cracked and faded sign, which read Lucky Star Roadhouse. Between the words “lucky” and “star” there was a pentagram, a hunters’ protective symbol.  
   
Jake nodded solemnly, thinking of what might have happened to the previous inhabitants of the bar. He had not, in any of his research, found something that suggested any of the victims had been connected to the bar but he had to admit that, with monsters living in a place that had once belonged to hunters, it seemed all too clear what had become of them.  
   
As they came closer, the music became distinct as classic rock. From the commercials every so often, it must have been played on a radio. They reached the edge of the parking lot and moved forward together, not wanting to split up when in such a dangerous position. They circled around the bar, trying to get a feel for the layout. It seemed that there had been a living area off to the left side, but this was now almost completely crushed. The roof had caved in, and the stone blocks of the walls were falling down. The kitchens in the back were the same. Only the main room, the area of the bar where customers were served, was still standing. There was only one door, now that the two back doors had been blocked by rubble, and three windows that weren’t also blocked, one on the same side as the door and two on an adjacent side.  
   
When they had circled the entire bar, Logan motioned to Jake. They crept towards the window nearest where they’d parked the car, so the distance would be at least a few steps shorter if they needed to run. The glass of the window had been broken out, and slatted plastic blinds were drawn over the hole. Logan knelt next to the window, and Jake followed his lead.  
   
Logan tapped Jake’s shoulder and pointed out towards the parking lot. Jake understood that this meant for him to keep watch, and he nodded. While Jake looked out towards the empty road, Logan slowly rose from his crouching position, peeking carefully between the slats of the blinds. He turned back to Jake and mouthed, “Sleeping.”  
   
“How many?” Jake mouthed back, and Logan shrugged. He turned back to the window to look again.  
   
Suddenly a breeze blew, rustling the blinds and pulling them away from the house. Jake started then froze, biting his tongue to keep from gasping in surprise. Beside him he heard Logan draw in a slow, deep breath.  
   
Logan stood abruptly and turned back towards the car. Jake looked between Logan and the window in confusion, then rose and followed as Logan made his way quickly but silently back to the car. He noticed that Logan’s fists were clenched as he walked, and his jaw was set.  
   
“What happened?” Jake asked in a whisper when they’d reached the relative safety of the car. Logan started it and began to back down the road, not wanting to drive any nearer. After the rundown bar was out of sight, Logan turned the car around and sped down the road. Jake saw that his hands were trembling on the wheel.  
   
Logan only got about half-way back to town before pulling over on the side of the road. The shaking in his hands and arms had become too violent to control the car. Logan leaned forward and rested his forehead against the top of the steering wheel, his shoulders trembling as though he were crying.  
   
“Your dad?” Jake asked in a horrified whisper. It was the only thing he could think of that might get this kind of reaction from Logan. Logan didn’t respond, and Jake reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. The trembling lessened under Jake’s touch and within a few moments it had ceased. Logan lifted his head and Jake saw to his surprise that the other teen’s cheeks were dry.  
   
“Eleven,” Logan said, and Jake looked at him curiously. “Eleven vampires, all asleep in the main room of the bar. And my dad, Jake. My dad’s in there. He’s tied up and covered in blood, but I think I saw him move, Jake; I think he’s still alive. But I don’t know how long they’ll keep him that way, and maybe tonight while we’re asleep they’ll decide they’ve had enough fun torturing the hunter, and just kill him. I had to get out of there, because I knew if I didn’t I’d do something stupid.”  
   
Logan started to shake again, and this time tears did fall down his cheeks. Jake instinctively reached out and wrapped his arms around Logan, offering comfort in the only way he could. Without hesitation Logan buried his face in Jake’s shoulder and clung to him as sobs wracked his body.  
   
Logan only allowed himself a few minutes of tears, however, before he pulled back and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and set his jaw, his expression determined. “Alright,” he said, his voice rough but strong. “No more time to waste with that. We’ve got weapons to prepare. We’ll watch the clouds tomorrow, and strike when there’s the most sun.”  
   
Logan went on, drawing out their plan of attack right there in the car. Jake just let him go, nodding every now and then in agreement. He knew there was no stopping Logan once he’d started planning. As Logan fell silent, thinking over his plan to find any holes, Jake looked back in the direction of the bar and breathed out a shaky sigh. He, too, was filled with apprehension and excitement at what the next day would bring.  
   
Logan nodded to himself as he finished checking and rechecking his plan. Then he turned to Jake, his eyes bright. “We’ll make those bastards pay for everything they’ve done.”


	11. Chapter 11

The sun broke over the mountains late in the morning, only to be partially obscured by clouds as it rose. Jake had the weather channel on inside the motel room while Logan stood just outside the door looking up at the sky. He held his bloodstained machete in his hand, not caring if any of the other motel guests or anyone passing by saw it.  
   
“It’s going to be cloudy for most of the day,” Jake murmured as he joined Logan on the sidewalk around the motel.  
   
“We can’t wait until tomorrow,” Logan said, and Jake nodded. The vampires had held Logan’s father for twelve days now. They might decide to kill him at any time. He and Logan couldn’t let another night pass without acting.  
   
“We’ll wait a few hours more, and see if the sun burns off some of those clouds,” Jake said softly. “Come on, put that machete away and let’s go get breakfast.” Logan nodded reluctantly and stowed the machete in the room. They’d booked the hotel room for a third night, which would give them the room as a base to work from during the morning.  
   
They walked across the street to a restaurant and ate without talking. Jake had no appetite to speak of and he suspected Logan felt the same, but they both knew they would need their strength for the day ahead. As they ate, Logan looked over a map he’d drawn of the Lucky Star Roadhouse, showing all of the windows and doors and the places where he’d seen the different vampires sleeping the previous day.  
   
“Are you a good shot with a crossbow?” Logan asked for the fifth time since they had returned to the motel room the previous night.  
   
“Yes,” Jake assured him patiently. “I was the best shot at Blackwood Creek.” Logan nodded, but Jake could tell he was wondering if excellence at the summer camp would really equate to proficiency in an actual hunt. Jake wondered that himself.  
   
“I don’t like you going in by yourself,” Jake said, reaching across the table to grab Logan’s wrist.  
   
“There’s no other way,” Logan replied. “I need to get my dad out of there. Besides, you’ll be covering me.” He looked up and gazed into Jake’s eyes. “I trust you.”  
   
Jake nodded grimly and squeeze Logan’s wrist before releasing it. He was glad that Logan trusted him, but fear and anxiety had made him doubt his own skill. He hoped he would be able to do what Logan needed him to do.  
   
The plan was simple, almost distressingly so. Jake would stand outside the window by the door, holding the crossbow loaded with bolts that had been dipped in dead man’s blood. Logan would sneak in through the door, and try to reach his father and get him out. They both hoped that Logan would be able to get the man out of the nest before any of the vampires woke, but they couldn’t expect it. The moment one of the vampires seemed about to wake up, Jake would start shooting. He had twenty bolts, almost twice the number of vampires inside, but considering their speed and strength he couldn’t afford to miss many times while Logan and his father were inside.  
   
The plan depended on the poisonous blood being quickly and lastingly effective. If the vampires could still move after being shot with the blood-tipped bolts, Logan would have to fend them off with his machete. Jake didn’t like the odds of one human boy against eleven vampires. Another point of concern was how long the blood would keep the vampires under sedation. If they woke too soon, they might be able to escape or fight back. Logan had never hunted vampires before, or even heard much about hunting them, and he didn’t know specifics of how the blood would work. Moreover, the blood they had was more than six days old, so there was no way of knowing if it would work at all.  
   
Provided the blood worked quickly enough and they were both able to survive until the vampires all passed out, they would rush Logan’s father to the car and load him inside, then go back and cut off the vampires’ heads to kill them.  
   
If the blood didn’t work, Logan would be trapped inside the building with only a blood-tipped machete to defend himself. He told Jake that if the vampires came after him, he should run to the car and try to shoot them from inside the vehicle, then drive away. Jake was adamantly against this part of the plan. He didn’t want to leave Logan behind, and insisted that if Logan were trapped inside he would go in and try to help Logan fight his way out. Logan, however, argued that he would have a better chance if Jake could draw some of them off. At worst, he said, Jake could come back after the poison had become affective, and kill the vampires then. He didn’t say if he thought he would be able to survive that long.  
   
   
   
   
They parked the car down the road from the decrepit roadhouse at around ten in the morning and watched the clouds move across the sky, hoping that they would clear up soon. A sunny sky, they hoped, would slow the vampires down if Jake needed to run. Logan also said that if he could make it to the door even after Jake left, he might have a better chance of keeping away from the vampires until the poison took affect if the sun was out. Jake suspected Logan only said it to comfort him, however. Logan was probably expecting to die if the poison didn’t work right away and Jake was forced to run.  
   
As they waited for conditions to improve, they rolled down the windows and listened. Notes of classic rock music still floated out from the bar, but there was no other sound to be made out. Jake privately hoped the music would drown out any sounds Logan made while opening the door and creeping in. As the sun rose in the sky the day grew hot, leaving sweat dripping down their backs and plastering their shirts to their skin. They opened the doors and let the hot summer air flow through the car, rather than turning on the engine to have the air-conditioning. They debated putting the car in neutral and pushing it closer, to be able to escape more quickly, but decided against it because of the noise. Logan even put back his seat and seemed to rest, which Jake couldn’t understand at all. His body was humming with nervous energy; there was no way he could have relaxed enough to sleep. If it hadn’t been too risky to make any unnecessary noise, Jake might have gotten up and paced around the car.  
   
It was noon by the time that the sun, high and bright and hot overhead, finally burned off the last wisps of clouds. The sky was blue and clear from horizon to horizon, like a great glass dome over the face of the earth. Logan put his chair back up and stepped out of the car, looking around. Then he nodded to Jake. It was time.  
   
Jake’s heart was pounding in his ears as he stepped out of the car and started towards the roadhouse. It drowned out the music playing on the radio inside, and he worried it would be loud enough to wake the vampires. As they stepped into the parking lot Jake’s foot hit a rock, making it roll across the pavement with a crunching sound, and he flinched at the noise. Logan glanced at him, and then they both looked to the bar, frozen as they waited to see if the noise had woken the vampires. When after a few moments there was no sound or movement from within, Jake let out a quiet breath, and they started forward again.  
   
They reached the front of the building without incident, and Jake crept to the window a few feet left of the door. There was another slatted plastic blind over it, and he beckoned Logan over. Logan held the string of the blinds while Jake cut them with his knife, and then carefully laid it to the side. Now there was a strip of clear space at the bottom of the window that Jake could see through. He knelt next to the wall, one knee on the ground and the other bent, and placed the end of the crossbow on the windowsill.  
   
The bow was Logan’s, handmade from bars and springs, and it would fire the twenty bolts they had without needing to be reloaded each time. Jake had practiced with it the previous night, to make sure his aim would be steady with the new weapon. He was confident that he could aim it well, so long as his hands didn’t start to shake like they had when he shot the ghost at the funeral home.  
   
Past the tip of his crossbow and inside the dark building, Jake could see many still figures lying around the room. There were ratty mattresses, blankets, and seat cushions strewn across the floor that the creatures inside were laying on, probably taken from the living quarters before the roof and sides had collapsed. A few mesh hammocks had been hung from the rafters. He counted eleven human shapes in all, still and sleeping, and he flashed eleven fingers at Logan, who nodded grimly from beside the door.  
   
There was a twelfth person inside, seated on the ground and leaning against a column in the middle of the room. His clothes were spattered in blood, as was the floor of the bar around him, and his arms were tied to the pole behind his back. The man was slumped forward and Jake couldn’t see his face, but he recognized the short-cropped blonde curls, just like Logan’s hair. The man was terrifyingly still and Jake couldn’t even make out the rise and fall of his chest if he was breathing.  
   
Jake looked back at Logan and nodded. They were ready to go in.  
   
Logan pulled a plastic bag from his pocket. Inside was a hotel washcloth soaked with engine oil. He rubbed it over the old hinges of the door, holding it a few seconds to let to oil seep through to the pins of the hinges. They had hoped this would ease the movement of the hinges and prevent any squeaking.  
   
When he was done, Logan set the cloth and bag on the ground by the door. He drew his machete and gripped it tightly in his left hand, then looked over at Jake. The two of them locked eyes for a moment, green staring into hazel, and then Logan looked back to the door. He turned the knob and pulled.  
   
Jake winced as the door swung open, expecting a loud noise, but the creaking of the door was surprisingly soft. They looked at one another again, sharing their relief. That was one potential danger they had avoided. Logan propped the door open with a rock and switched his machete to his right hand. With one last glance at Jake, he stepped into the building.  
   
Jake swallowed as he turned his eyes back to the room at the end of his crossbow. He could see Logan from the corner of his eye as he stepped inside. Jake’s eyes flicked between Logan and the rest of the room, watching for any movement amongst the sleeping vampires. He barely dared to breathe as he watched Logan walk deeper into the nest.  
   
Logan reached his father and put a hand on his shoulder, kneeling down before him. The man shifted, and Jake could hear his moan from the window. He glanced quickly around the nest to see if any of the vampires were waking. One shifted on its mattress and Jake leveled the crossbow with it, waiting to see if he would need to shoot. He was certain that if he did, and the vampire cried out, the others would wake. Unless he was positive a vampire was waking up, he didn’t want to shoot while Logan and his father were still inside.  
   
The vampire rolled in its sleep, slipping off the mattress and landing on the floor with a soft thump that made Jake wince. Then it went still again, and resumed its snoring. The other vampires in the room hadn’t moved. Logan’s father lifted his head and blinked up at his son, and Logan put a finger to his lips in warning. He went to work on the ropes binding his father’s hands, slicing through them with the machete, leaving dark blood smeared over them. Jake hoped the machete would still be effective with less blood on it.  
   
When the bonds were cut, Logan dragged his father’s arm around his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. The man sagged, dragging Logan down. Logan’s father fell back against the column with a grunt of pain and Logan froze, his eyes darting around the room anxiously. In the corner, another vampire snuffled in its sleep, and Jake shifted the crossbow to aim at this one. The vampire rolled in its sleep, first one way, then the other. Logan glanced at Jake, who caught his eye. This vampire hadn’t stilled like the other.  
   
Logan pulled his father away from the column and turned back towards the door. He moved as quickly as he could while still allowing his father to keep steady on his feet. The vampire in the corner continued to move, and moaned softly in its sleep. Jake glanced quickly from it to Logan, hoping for some kind of signal as to whether he should shoot or stand down until Logan was clear of the building. But Logan’s attention was on his father, on helping his stay upright as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. Jake looked back at the vampire.  
   
It started to sit up, pushing back the blanket that had been thrown over its head. Logan looked back and saw it was waking up. He abandoned any attempt to keep quiet and rushed towards the door, taking his father’s weight on his shoulder when the man slipped. Jake looked frantically around the room as other vampires began to wake with the noise. The one in the corner, which had woken first, blinked at Logan and started to lift itself from the bed. Jake knew the time for stealth was past. He squeezed the trigger and watched a blood-tipped bolt fly forward and lodge itself in the vampire’s chest. It blinked at it in surprise, still half asleep, and Jake turned his attention from that vampire to the others that were waking up.  
   
Jake got off three shots in rapid succession before the other seven vampires became fully alert. The first one Jake had shot dropped to the ground, still, while the other three moved sluggishly towards Logan. The seven that had not been shot, however, were advancing on him rapidly. One reached seized Logan’s arm that was holding the machete, while another latched onto his father and began to pull him away from Logan. The man cried out and struck at the vampire with his fist.  
   
Jake shot the vampire that was gripping Logan’s arm, and he shook free from its grasp and slashed at the vampire that held his father. He hacked at its elbow with such force he severed the limb, and it stumbled back with a cry. Two of the five uninjured vampires turned towards the window, their eyes narrowing as they spotted Jake.  
   
“Run!” Logan cried as he slashed at one of the three surrounding him. But Jake remained. He knew that Logan was greatly hindered by his father’s dead weight dragging on his shoulders and pinning his left arm. Handicapped like that, Logan was no match for three inhumanely strong monsters. Jake wouldn’t leave him to fend for himself.  
   
The two that had turned their attention to Jake rushed at the window. Jake was only able to fire once, dropping one of the vampires, before the second reached the window and leapt through. Jake shouted and fell backwards against the ground as the vampire tackled him. The crossbow flew from his hands, landing several feet away and well out of Jake’s reach. The vampire pinned his shoulders with incredible strength, so great Jake knew he had no chance of lifting himself up or throwing it off. He grabbed desperately for the blood-tipped knife at his belt. He looked up in horror as the vampire opened its mouth and a set of jagged fangs erupted from its gums in front of the normal teeth.  
   
The vampire leaned down towards Jake’s neck just as he managed to grasp the hilt of the knife. He turned his wrist and plunged the blade up into the vampire’s abdomen. It went still above him in shock, and Jake felt hot blood drip down the knife onto his hands. The vampire snarled and started to lean down again, but Jake drew back the knife and stabbed upwards a second time, then again. The vampire flinched and grunted in pain, its female face contorting in a look of hatred as its strength drained. Blood dribbled from its lips and dripped onto Jake’s cheek. Then the vampire collapsed on top of him.  
   
Jake threw the vampire to the side and scrambled to his feet. His hands and shirt were soaked with bright red blood. He threw the knife away and ran for the crossbow, grabbing it up and turning back to the bar. When he reached the open doorway he saw that Logan had managed to behead one of the three vampires, but it seemed that the dead man’s blood had been wiped from his machete. The two remaining vampires, though cut by the blade, showed no signs of collapsing like the others had. Jake raised the crossbow and fired two more bolts at the last vampires.  
   
One collapsed immediately, but the other kept moving towards Logan. Its movements were slow, and Logan took full advantage, drawing the machete back and swinging it at the vampire’s neck. With a sickening noise and a spray of blood, the head was rent from the shoulders. The body wavered, still upright, then fell backwards. Logan looked up at Jake. His face was spattered with blood and his breathing was coming in heavy gasps, but he was alive. Jake managed a shaky grin, which Logan returned. The he dropped the crossbow to the ground and ran into the bar, taking Logan’s father’s other arm and helping Logan drag him from the building.  
   
They hauled Logan’s father, who seemed only half conscious, out to the car and pulled him into the back seat. Then they turned back to the bar. They both knew that the job wasn’t finished. Jake turned to look at Logan but found that his expression was unreadable. “You can stay with your father if you want. I’ll take care of them.”  
   
Logan shook his head. “No. I’ll do it. I need to see this through.” Jake nodded in understanding, and together they went back to the bar. Jake picked up the knife from where he’d dropped it and knelt by the vampire he’d stabbed. It moaned softly and turned its head from one side to the other. Still and unthreatening, it was hard to see her as anything but human. Her beautiful face was spattered with blood and her pink shirt was stained with it around the stab wound on her abdomen. She groaned as Jake grabbed a fistful of her dark hair and pulled her head back to expose her neck, and he caught a glimpse of the slits in her gums that held her fangs. It was this view that gave Jake the resolve to keep his hand from shaking as he brought the knife down over the vampire’s neck, carving through cartilage and bone with difficulty now that the adrenaline rush was gone.  
   
When it was done Jake rose to his feet and looked up at Logan, who had watched impassively as he killed the vampire. Without speaking they turned back to the bar and went in together to kill the other eight.  
   
   
   
   
An hour later, Jake and Logan were pulling Logan’s father from the back of the car into the hotel room. They moved as swiftly as they dared while supporting the injured man, not wanting anyone to spot them while all three were covered in blood. They got Logan’s father inside and lowered him onto the bed. He fell onto the comforter with a groan of pain and didn’t move again.  
   
Logan sat beside him and started to cut away his shirt while Jake got the first aid kit from Logan’s bag. The man’s body was covered in cuts, mostly shallow, but long, which Logan deftly patched with Jake’s help. His expression was grim and with every noise his father made he glanced up at the man’s face, hoping he was waking up.  
   
“Do you think he’s been turned?” Jake whispered softly as they packed the first aid kit back up. Logan shook his head.  
   
“It doesn’t look like they bit him. Besides, he wouldn’t be like this if he’d been turned, weak and unresponsive. He’d be screaming in pain and trying to drink our blood.”  
   
Jake nodded thoughtfully as he watched Logan sitting by his father. For the first time on their trip he felt out of place, as though he were intruding on something that he wasn’t meant to be a part of. “I’m gonna go clean up,” Jake murmured, and Logan nodded without looking up. Jake glanced at him once more before retreating into the bathroom to give Logan time alone with his father.  
   
   
   
   
Jake’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright. Beside him he could dimly see Logan do the same. They exchanged a glance in the darkness, both wondering what had woken them. There was a soft groan from one side of the room, and then a lamp was flicked on and the room was flooded in light. Jake blinked in the sudden blinding light but didn’t hesitate to scramble to his feet, ready to defend himself. Logan was already standing, the knife he’d stashed under his pillow now in his hand as they both turned to face the source of the noise and light.  
   
Logan’s father was sitting up in the bed, blinking around the room in confusion. Logan dropped his knife to the blankets they’d been sleeping in on the floor and ran to him. “Dad,” he said urgently, “Are you feeling okay? Do you know where you are?”  
   
“Logan?” the man asked, reaching out to his son.  
   
“It’s okay,” Logan murmured, easing onto the bed beside him. “You’re safe now. We got you out.”  
   
Logan’s father rubbed at the bandages on his wrists, which had been raw from the ropes. “What happened?”  
   
“Now much do you remember?”  
   
“I had a hunt in Montana,” the man said slowly. Jake went to a chair in the corner of the room and sat, not wanting to interfere with the reunion between father and son. “A dangerous hunt. Vampires. There’d been killings in Blue Ridge, and no one could get in touch with Donna Reston or any of the others at the Lucky Star Roadhouse. Figured they’d been killed.” He looked up at Logan and quirked an eyebrow. “I remember leaving you behind in Michigan.”  
   
Logan ducked his head, looking embarrassed for the first time that Jake had ever seen. “You stopped answering my calls. What did you expect me to do? Just let you die?” The man snorted and shook his head.  
   
“How did you get me away from those vampires? I only managed to kill one before the rest got me. There were just too many of them.”  
   
“Dead man’s blood,” Logan explained. “Got it from a funeral home in Charlotte Hills. ‘Course, I had to burn the place down because there was a ghost inside,” Logan admitted sheepishly, “but never mind that part. Also, it helped to have a second pair of hands.” He looked over at Jake and smiled. His father followed his gaze in surprise, noticing Jake for the first time.  
   
He held out his hand. “Luke Taylor.” Jake rose from his chair and clasped the man’s hand, feeling the rough calluses on his palm and the scars across the backs of his fingers.  
   
“Jake,” he said in return.  
   
“So,” Luke murmured, eying him thoughtfully. “You helped my boy take care of a nest of vampires?”  
   
“Yes, sir.” Jake nodded.  
   
“How did you two meet?”  
   
“I was at Blackwood Creek, the hunting camp in Michigan,” Jake explained. He glanced at Logan to see if he wanted to add anything, but Logan just shrugged.  
   
“I see,” Luke said thoughtfully. “Did they send you along to help Logan out?”  
   
Jake grinned. “No, sir! Actually, I kind of made Logan bring me with him, because I thought I could help. I guess back at Blackwood Creek they think we stole a car and ran away.”  
   
Luke raised an eyebrow and glanced at his son. “Stole a car?” he echoed, and Logan blushed and looked away. Luke chuckled. “Well, I guess I’ll have some explaining to do when we take it back.”  
   
“Yes, sir,” Logan mumbled. Then he looked up, and when he spoke his tone was businesslike. “Dad, how are your injuries? We were real worried when you didn’t wake up while we dragged you out of there.”  
   
Luke rolled his shoulders experimentally. “I think it’s okay,” he said. “I remember they cut me and drank the blood, but they never actually bit me. One of them hit me in the head after I’d been there a long time, and I don’t recall much after that. The cuts themselves aren’t that bad, I think, except they were never bandaged, so they bled a lot.” He looked between the two of them, then his sharp green eyes flashed to the alarm clock on the bedside table. “I suppose you boys have had a rough day,” he said, his tone like Logan’s had been. “Didn’t mean to wake you up. You’d better get back to sleep.” He waved to them. “You’ll need your rest for when we start back to Michigan tomorrow.”  
   
“We’re not starting back tomorrow,” Logan said, his voice firm. “We’re staying one more day to let you heal up, and then we’re taking it slow back to Michigan, none of these fourteen hour days that you make of it. And I’m driving. You will be lying in the back seat resting.”  
   
Luke raised an eyebrow at his son, and Logan just glared back defiantly. Luke smiled and shook his head. “Well, I suppose it’s you boys’ hunt now. You can end it how you like. We’ll leave when you say we’ll leave.”  
   
Logan nodded decisively and turned back to his bed of blankets on the floor. Jake looked between the two of them, amused. He caught Luke’s gaze and shared a smile with him at Logan’s stubbornness, then went to lie down beside Logan. The light clicked off as he settled down on the floor. Logan’s hand searched his out under the covers and clasped it, but they both lay apart from each other rather than cuddled together as they had been before. Jake feared it would be an awkward return trip, with them unable to cuddle or kiss while Logan’s father was around.


	12. Chapter 12

The three of them arrived back at Blackwood Creek early evening on the thirty-first of July, the last day of camp. They’d picked up Luke’s truck from the impound lot in Blue Ridge and Jake had driven it while Logan led the way in the borrowed car, with his father resting in the back seat. The return trip took them ten days in total, because Logan wanted to go easy on his father and on Jake, who was still feeling the broken ribs after being slammed to the ground by the vampire.  
   
They rolled up to Blackwood Creek at the end of their tenth day on the road and parked both vehicles in the middle of the driveway. Barrett seemed shocked when Luke climbed out of the car, but he greeted them heartily and, without mentioning the unauthorized use of the vehicle, offered to let Luke and Logan stay a couple nights after camp ended until Luke was feeling well enough to get back to the job.  
   
While Luke and Barrett talked about the hunt and what had happened, Jake and Logan went into the barn to find the other campers. As they entered the building, Rae cried out and ran over, flinging her arms around Jake.  
   
“Ow, ow, watch the ribs!” Jake yelped as she squeezed him. Rae pulled back and looked him over, then lifted the hem of his shirt to inspect the injury.  
   
“What was it?” she asked eagerly. “What did you hunt? What got you?”  
   
“Well, we hunted vampires,” Jake began, but Rae interrupted him.  
   
“Vampires? No way, they’re extinct!”  
   
“Not all of them,” Logan cut in. “There was a nest of eleven of them in Blue Ridge, Montana. They’d killed the owners of a hunters’ bar and they were living there. Killed twelve other people, too.”  
   
“Wow,” Rae breathed, her eyes wide. “And you wiped out all of them?”  
   
“We did,” Logan said with a nod. He was smirking a little, but Jake decided to forgive him for that. After what they’d done, Logan deserved to feel proud.  
   
“But,” Jake finished the sentence he’d begun, “it wasn’t vampires that got me. It was a ghost.”  
   
“What?” Rae’s grin fell, and she looked disappointed. “A ghost got you? Really, Jake? Come on! I’ve done the old salt and burn before! Even Megan’s done the salt and burn! How do you let a little old ghost get the drop on you?”  
   
“Hey, we weren’t expecting it to be there!” Jake said defensively.  
   
“Yeah, we went in unarmed, and Jake had to run back to the car for a shotgun,” Logan agreed. “Besides, ghosts are tough, especially if you’re overconfident and let your guard down. It did this to my neck.” Logan pointed to the bruises, which still showed a bit. “And I’ve been hurt by ghosts before. One of them gave me this.” He pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, showing off the scar on his left shoulder.  
   
“Wow,” Rae said again. “That’s pretty awesome.” Logan nodded confidently and let the shirt fall back into place. Jake smiled over at him. He was proud of Logan for showing off the scars he was so insecure about. He was glad Logan had started to treat them like the badges of courage they were, rather than flaws to be ashamed of.  
   
Rae took Logan’s hand and led them back to the couch and circle of beanbag chairs where the other campers were sitting, and the two of them settled into their seats started telling their story. They both cut in on one another when they felt something had been left out and teased each other about different things that had happened. Logan exaggerated how drunk Jake had been the first night, and Jake played up his daring rescue of Logan. By tacit agreement, neither mentioned the romantic aspect their relationship had developed.  
   
That night when it got dark the four campers who had stayed the summer, as well as Jake and Logan, Luke, and the camp coordinators Barrett and Kaylo, finished off the camp session in the usual way: with a huge bonfire and some bottle rockets in an empty field. The younger campers crowded around the fire roasting marshmallows while Barrett set up the rockets and Luke and Kaylo talked. Jake and Logan sat on the other side of the fire with s’mores sticks of their own. They sat pressed up against one another, their shoulders, knees, hips, and thighs touching. They didn’t talk, but instead watched the other campers joking and laughing, and smiled at one another.  
   
Jake knew that it was their last night together, and he knew that Logan knew it too. The next day the camp would break up. Rae, Jeremy, Megan, and Will would all be picked up by their respective parents. Jake’s dad would come to take him on their usual father-son camping trip. Logan and Luke, who had refused Barrett’s offer to stay a few more nights, would be on the road again, off on some new hunt. This was their last night together, but it didn’t feel sad. It didn’t feel like the end, but the beginning.  
   
It was the beginning of the rest of their lives. Jake had been thinking a lot, driving on his own in Luke’s truck, about what he would do in the fall. When he’d arrived at Blackwood Creek at the beginning of July, he’d wanted nothing more than to buy a car and travel around the country hunting monsters. Now, though, his outlook had changed. Logan might have been speaking to hurt when he’d said that Jake was naïve and inexperienced, but he hadn’t been wrong. At that time, Jake had had no idea what it really meant to be a hunter. He could see now that it was a lonely, dangerous life, one filled with hardships and suffering that most people would never be able to bear. It was a life that could kill a person, like the owners of the Lucky Star Roadhouse, and leave them to rot without anyone knowing of their death for years. Was it really the life Jake wanted?  
   
Whatever path he chose, Jake knew that the next day, August first, would be the beginning of the rest of his life. More so than his high school graduation, more so than his eighteenth birthday, August first would be the beginning of his life as an adult, as someone forging his own path rather than being led by people older and wiser. It was the end of one part of his life, but it was also the dawn of another. It didn’t have to be the end of his relationship with Logan.  
   
“Hey!” A loud voice from behind him interrupted Jake’s thoughts. Rae grinned and climbed between them, throwing an arm around each boy’s shoulders. “What’re you two doing all separate from everyone else? You think you’re better than us ‘cause you’ve hunted without an adult, is that it?”  
   
“Yeah,” Jake laughed. “We’re real hunters now. The rest of you are just kids.”  
   
“Shut up, asshole!” Rae shoved Jake’s head down, and Logan laughed. “It’s time for the bottle rockets.” Rae pointed to the dark field. Just as she said it, there was a loud whistling and a spark flew into the sky and exploded with a loud crack. Rae laughed in Jake’s ear, and he grinned. The three of them watched the bottle rockets together, cheering and laughing above the noise of the rockets. Jake smiled as he watched Logan, thinking of how different it was from the first night of camp when Logan had stood apart from the others and watched the fireworks without smiling. He was glad to see the change in the other teen, glad to see him joining in the fun with his peers. Logan caught him staring and smirked at him, and Jake grinned in return. Then the moment was broken by Rae cheering loudly and throwing her arms into the air between them. They two boys glanced at her, then shared a smile and turned their attention back to the show.  
   
Finally the bottle rockets had all been set off and the fire had burned down to coals. As they walked back to the barn after the fire had been put out, Jake slipped his hand into Logan’s. The darkness hid their actions from the people around them, and Logan squeezed his hand in return. Jake smiled in the darkness. He was glad that Logan hadn’t started to pull away, even when they both knew they would go their separate ways the next morning.  
   
They dropped their hands when they reached the beam of light spilling out from the barn doors. The six campers ascended to the second story, while Luke, Barrett, and Kaylo went off to the main house. Jake and Logan chose beds next to each other, simply digging a few essential items from their bags since they would only be staying the night. Jake wrote a couple sentences about the day in his journal, then set it aside and lay back with a sigh. Logan looked over at him as he pulled off his shirt.  
   
“This is the last night,” Logan murmured, and Jake nodded. “After tomorrow, we might never see each other again.”  
   
“No,” Jake insisted. “We will. If we want to, we will.” Logan shrugged, and Jake thought that Logan didn’t really believe him. Jake sat up on his bed and took his journal from the nightstand. He tore a corner from a page and wrote on it, then handed it to Logan. “That’s my cell phone number. You can call me any time, and we can talk. The number won’t change.”  
   
Logan turned the paper over in his hands. He nodded slowly. “What’re you going to do?” he asked. “After your dad picks you up. Will you go hunting with him?”  
   
“I don’t know,” Jake said. “I don’t know if he’ll want to take me hunting or not. But,” Jake glanced over at Logan, suddenly feeling a twinge of uneasiness now that he was preparing to explain his plans, “I know that in the fall, I won’t be traveling with him. I won’t be hunting. I’m going to go to college. I’m going to get a degree and get a regular job. I’m not going to make a life out of hunting.”  
   
He looked over at Logan, wondering how the other teen would react. He didn’t want Logan to think less of him because of this.  
   
“Good,” Logan said, which surprised Jake. He frowned at Logan, and the other boy explained. “I never had a chance to not be a hunter. I was raised to this life from the time I was a baby; there’s nothing else I know how to be. But you, you had a normal life during the year. You can be something else. You don’t have to be driving all over kingdom come trying to save people who never show you any thanks.” He looked over at Jake and met his eyes.  
   
“I’m proud of you, for making this choice. You’re not a kid playing hunter anymore. You know what it is, and you know that no one in their right mind would actually want it. And… I’m happy for you. I’m happy that you’re going to be able to do something with your life. You’ll be able to get a nice job. To settle down, have someplace to call home, and build a family. I’m glad. I want you to be happy.”  
   
Jake moved from his bed to Logan’s and hugged the other teen. “I guess you’re going to keep hunting, huh?” he murmured. Logan nodded wordlessly. “You don’t have to. You could stop.”  
   
“I do have to,” Logan insisted. “Like I said, I don’t know how to be normal. And once you get started hunting, it’s hard to stop. It’s like an addiction; if you try to quit, it hurts.” Jake held Logan against his shoulder. Logan allowed Jake to comfort him. “But don’t feel sorry for me, Jake. I’m a hunter, and I’ve accepted that. I’m not sad or angry about it anymore. I even enjoy it sometimes.” His lips twisted into an unhappy smile. “So don’t feel sorry for me.”  
   
“Logan,” Jake said thoughtfully. “Let’s meet up again next summer.”  
   
“Next summer?”  
   
“Yeah.” Jake grinned at him. “I’ll be too old for Blackwood Creek, but I’ll still have summers off from college. We can go hunting together again. Or, you know, just spend time together. Hunters can take breaks too.”  
   
Logan thought about it for a moment, then a thin smile played at his lips. It grew as he thought more, and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we could do that. It’d be fun.”  
   
“Yeah, it would.” Jake squeezed Logan’s shoulder in a half-hug, and Logan put an arm around him and did the same. They sat together for a few minutes as lights went out around the room.  
   
“I wish we could sleep in the same bed again,” Jake murmured with a little smile. Logan grinned wolfishly at him, and Jake pulled away.  
   
“We could,” Logan said. Jake shook his head.  
   
“No way. You might be an out and proud bisexual, but I’m still not comfortable saying I’m bi or gay. I don’t want other people to know.” Logan nodded and slid his arm back around Jake’s shoulders. Jake studied him for a moment. “Logan? Are you upset with me for not saying I’m gay?”  
   
“I might have been before,” Logan admitted. “But now it hardly seems to matter. What we have is… it’s special. After all we’ve been through…” Logan shrugged. Jake could see that he was blushing a bit, and seemed nervous. He doubted Logan had much experience talking about his feelings. “I guess I kind of feel like we don’t need labels to say this is real.”  
   
“Yeah,” Jake agreed with a smile. He leaned over and kissed Logan’s cheek. Logan laughed softly and turned his head towards Jake, kissing him gently on the mouth. When they separated, Jake took Logan’s hand in his and pressed the other teen’s fingers to curl into a fist around the piece of paper. “I love you, Logan. You’d better call.”  
   
“I will,” Logan assured him.  
   
“Good.” Jake stood up and went to his own bed, crawling under the covers. “Goodnight, babe,” he said as he flicked out his bedside lamp. He heard Logan chuckle at the pet name, and then Logan’s light was turned off as well.  
   
“’Night, sweetheart,” he heard Logan say, a note of gentle teasing in his voice, and he grinned into the darkness.  
   
   
   
   
It was already mid-morning when Jake was woken by sunlight streaming through the high windows on the slanted roof of the barn, and the first thing he noticed was the scent of bacon and eggs from the huge breakfast laid out on the ground floor. Jake looked over at Logan’s bed and saw that he was gone and the bed was already stripped. He quickly packed the few things he’d taken out after arriving and pulled the sheets into a pile at the foot of the bed.  
   
Jake went downstairs with his bag and saw the huge breakfast spread out on the table. No one was sitting down to eat, but rather picking at the food as they walked around and talked. The barn was in a state of cheerful chaos, much as it had been when Jake arrived on the first day. Megan was running around looking for a favorite shirt she’d lost somewhere. Will’s mother had already arrived, and he was excitedly telling her about the things he’d learned over the summer. Jeremy was curled up on a couch, trying to read a book and glaring over the top of it at the rest of the barn every few seconds. Rae was torn between trying to help Megan find her lost shirt, shooting a game of pool by herself, and munching the food laid out on the table. Every few seconds she would leave off one activity and switch to another, much to Megan’s annoyance. Logan was nowhere to be seen, but Jake wasn’t surprised that he would have tried to escape the chaos.  
   
Jake grabbed a paper plate and loaded food onto it, then slipped out of the barn to look for Logan. He spotted him at the other end of the small field that served as a firing range, next to a small strip of woods that divided two fields. Jake trotted over with the food, and Logan met him halfway.  
   
“Did you get breakfast?” Jake asked, holding out the plate. Logan shook his head and took a piece of toast with a fried egg laid on top of it from the plate.  
   
“No,” Logan said around a mouthful of food. He swallowed, then continued speaking. “When I woke up things were already pretty crazy, so I ducked out. Sorry to leave you like that.” Jake just shrugged, not bothered by it at all. He knew how chaotic the first and last days of camp could be, and how even someone who enjoyed the company of other people could want to escape it. Jake looked out around the field and saw one lone target at the end near them, and a crossbow and pile of bolts lying at its foot.  
   
“You were practicing?” Jake asked.  
Logan nodded. “I think I’m a little rusty,” he admitted. “I’ve been using guns for so long I’m no good with a crossbow anymore. I don’t know if I would have been able to shoot like you did back in Montana.”  
   
“Yeah, well.” Jake shrugged again. “It wouldn’t have mattered. You needed to go in and get your dad. It wouldn’t have been my place to do that. That’s why I covered you.”  
   
Logan nodded, and they lapsed into silence while they ate. When the food was gone Logan picked up the crossbow and turned back to Jake. “I guess we’ll be saying goodbye soon.”  
   
“Yeah,” Jake sighed. “But you know, it’s not forever. We’ll see each other again.”  
   
“I know. I’ve already talked to my dad about us meeting up again in the summer. He said that when I turn nineteen I can get my own car, so we can drive around together. After you go back to school next summer, he said I can start hunting on my own.”  
   
Jake nodded. “That’s pretty cool. I guess you’ll be the first one of the three of us to go hunting by yourself.” He counted Rae as the third, because it was her last year as well, and Logan seemed to understand that.  
   
“You never know. Rae’s gonna be eighteen soon, and her parents might let her go off on her own.”  
   
“I doubt it. She’s been traveling with them since she was a baby, and besides the stuff she does at camp she hasn’t even been hunting yet!” Logan laughed softly.  
   
“Well, I guess maybe I will,” he said with a smile. They looked at one another for a long moment before Logan spoke again. “I’m gonna miss you, Jake.”  
   
“I’m gonna miss you, too.” Jake reached out and hugged Logan, being careful of the plate of food he held. “Call me anytime. I love you.” He kissed Logan softly, and opened his mouth for the other boy when Logan ran his tongue over Jake’s lips. They kissed gently, passionately, enjoying the feel and taste of one another.  
   
“I love you too,” Logan murmured when they broke apart. Jake gazed into his eyes and pulled back reluctantly.  
   
“I guess you guys are leaving soon, huh?”  
   
“I dunno. My dad’s talking to some other parent, so he might be a while.” Logan pointed to the open ground between the farm buildings, where Luke was standing next to another man.  
   
A grin spread across Jake’s face when he recognized Luke’s companion. “Dad!” he cried, and ran off down the field towards the farmhouse. Logan followed behind him at a more leisurely speed, a smile on his face.  
   
“Dad!” Jake shouted as he ran into the middle of the camp. His father broke off talking to Luke and turned to him, pulling him close in a tight hug.  
   
“Hey, Jake!” Jake’s father laughed and released him. “I hear you’ve been busy this summer!” He turned back to Luke, a smile on his face. “Well, I guess I don’t need to introduce you two. Jake, Luke and I have met on a few hunts in the past. His boy Logan is an impressive young hunter. Luke, I guess you’ve already met the son I’ve told you about. Jacob Wright.” He patted Jake’s shoulder proudly as he said it, and Jake felt a rush of excitement. His father was proud of him.  
   
“Jake, your father was just telling me he planned to take you on your first hunt before you start college,” Luke said. “I guess he wasn’t aware you’d already gone. Killing a nest of vampires your first time out, that’s no small feat. You’ve got the makings of a good hunter in you.”  
   
Jake blushed at the praise. “Well, Logan killed half of them. And anyway, if he hadn’t been there I would’ve had no idea how to hunt those things. I probably would’ve gotten myself killed.”  
   
“Don’t be so modest,” Logan said as he strolled up, a smirk on his face. “After all, you did save my life in Charlotte Hills.” Jake grinned.  
   
“Yeah, I did save your ass, didn’t I?” he taunted, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “And you said I’d just get in the way!”  
   
“I was wrong,” Logan admitted carelessly as he slipped free from Jake’s arm.  
   
“But mom!” they heard Rae cry as her family walked past. Jake and Logan stopped wrestling and turned to watch the family, listening to the conversation. “Jake’s already been on his first hunt! We’re the same age! It’s not fair!”  
   
“Life isn’t fair,” her father replied simply. “And as long as you’re our daughter you’ll live by our rules.” Rae huffed and crossed her arms. She glared at Jake as she walked past him.  
   
“Jake,” her mother said calmly, “stole a car and ran away from camp. That’s not something to aspire to.”  
   
“Stole a car?” Jake’s father asked, raising his eyebrows. Jake blushed and looked away.  
   
“Well, it was more like borrowed, really,” he mumbled. “Barrett had given me all the keys at the start of camp. And we didn’t break it or anything; we brought it back all in one piece.”  
   
“What’s this ‘we’ stuff?” Logan asked. “I wasn’t the one who had the keys.”  
   
“No, but you  _were_  the one who picked the lock on the door and was about to hotwire the thing when I got there!” Jake replied, pulling Logan into a headlock. The older teen broke free from it effortlessly and pinned Jake in a half nelson. Both of them laughed breathlessly.  
   
“Bye, Jake!” Rae called as she climbed into her parents’ SUV. “Bye, Logan!”  
   
“Bye!” they both called, and Jake waved his free arm. Rae rolled her eyes at them as she slammed the door, and the SUV drove off.  
   
“Well, I see you both survived.” The two boys disentangled themselves and turned at the sound of Ross’ voice behind them. He had Megan’s duffle bag thrown over his shoulder and his two daughters stood beside him. “I knew you had it in you. You’re a set of scrappers, you two.”  
   
Jake grinned at the praise, then watched suspiciously as Logan went over to Holly and hugged her. He didn’t like Logan getting so close to someone he’d used to hook up with. Not when Logan was still saying he loved Jake.  
   
Logan seemed to whisper something in her ear, and Holly’s eyes went wide, then narrowed. Logan let her go and went over to Megan. “Bye, kid,” he said, ruffling her short hair, and she took a swing at him for it. Logan skipped out of her range, laughing, and she ran after him.  
   
Holly walked up to Jake and put her arms around his shoulders in a hug. As she pulled him close she leaned up and whispered into his ear, “If you break Logan’s heart, I will kill you.” Then she stepped back and smiled sweetly. Jake gulped. He didn’t doubt for a moment that she would go through with her threat.  
   
“I got it,” Jake assured her, and she nodded before joining her father by the car. Megan was still chasing Logan around the driveway, trying to get back at him for the offense of having her hair petted. She broke it off when her father called to her, and then followed after her family towards their car.  
   
“Bye, Jake!” she called, waving to him. Jake waved back. She looked over at Logan. “Bye, asshole!” Logan laughed, and Holly gasped in mock horror and began lecturing her sister as they climbed into the car.  
   
Will and Jeremy’s families also passed by, and the campers exchanged their goodbyes. Finally it was only Logan and Jake and their fathers left in the driveway. Luke and Jake’s father clasped hands, and Logan pulled Jake into a hug. Although he didn’t want to display affection for another man in front of his father, Jake couldn’t bring himself to refuse one last hug from Logan. “Love you,” Logan whispered into his ear. “Goodbye.”  
   
“You too,” Jake murmured sadly as they broke apart, thinking that “goodbye” sounded too final. He moved reluctantly towards his father’s van. Logan took a few steps towards Luke’s truck, then turned back to Jake.  
   
Logan smiled and held up the scrap of paper Jake had written his cell phone number on. “I’ll call,” he said seriously, then his face split into a grin. “I’ll call and tell you all about the hunts I’ve been on, and make sure you’re studying your ass off in college!” Jake laughed and grinned back at Logan.  
   
“You’d better call!” Jake yelled as he opened the car door and slid in. His father started the engine, and Jake pulled the door shut. “Bye!” he shouted one last time as they started to pull out.  
   
“Bye!” Logan waved at him through the window of the truck. Jake leaned out the passenger window and waved until the farm and the truck and Logan had disappeared from view. Then he settled back in his seat, a smile on his face.  
   
“So,” Jake said to his father. “We’re going hunting?”  
  



End file.
